The Mulgrews of Waterloo Road: Spring Term
by LisaT
Summary: LAST CHAPTER!: Sparks fly as everyone reels from the fallout of the science explosion, with shocks for the Fox twins and Christine—and Tom finally stops dithering over a very important question. Will he get the answer he wants? [Alt!S9; sequel to The Mulgrews of Waterloo Road: Autumn Term—read that first!]
1. Episode 1-1

_The end of Season 9 plus the sad news of _Waterloo Road'_s impending end has brought me back, although truth to tell this story has been bubbling for weeks. Other commitments have prevented me from doing much about it, but I was finally able to make a start this week. As a result, here's the first bit. The format will be the same as last time, so old readers know what to expect. New readers: please please go and read The Mulgrews of Waterloo Road: Autumn Term first or you'll be totally lost. I don't know that I'll be able to post as quickly as before—the next lot of weeks promise to be busy—but I'll do my best. As before, reviews, comments, crit etc all more than welcome and help to keep me going!_

* * *

**Mulgrew Household, 6.55am**

* * *

Christine Mulgrew stood at her kitchen island, idly mashing a teabag around a mug. Her attention was not focused on the beverage; she was too deeply engrossed in her thoughts. It was the first day of a new term at Waterloo Road—her second as Head—and after nearly three weeks off she was mentally preparing for the return to school. Hard to imagine that things could change so utterly in the space of three short weeks, but change they had, irrevocably. Murder tended to do that, even at a school as tempestuous as Waterloo Road. Her dreams were still haunted by the memory: Steve-o, shrieking abuse at former girlfriend (and the school's Head Girl) Dynasty Barry, Dynasty's white-hot fury, the gun, the shot… and the sickening thunk as Barry Barry landed at Christine's feet, his eyes wide in dead surprise.

Arms went around her waist and she stiffened slightly before relaxing into them, into the warmth and comfort that they offered.

'Didn't realise you were so keen to get back to work,' Tom teased, dropping a kiss just under her ear.

Reflexively she closed her eyes and moved her head, granting him better access. 'I couldn't sleep. It's a new term, it should be a new start… but it won't be, will it? We can't just move on. There's a new head boy to sort, and God knows how Dynasty will take that, there's counsellors coming in, new staff, new kids…'

'It'll work out,' Tom said gently. 'We'll do it together, you and me. Everyone's gonna be in the same boat, wondering what it'll be like, after—'

Christine turned in his arms. 'That's not all,' she continued tensely. 'I phoned the council the day it happened, to let them know. Bain had gone to Florida, they said, and he'd get back to me when he returned. I've been waiting and waiting and there hasn't been anything, no answer mail, no email, nothing. I'm going back in today not even knowing if I'm still going to have my job!'

'Hey. What happened last term was not your fault! You can't be blamed for Steve-o, it could've happened with anyone in charge!'

She raised her eyes to his. 'Yeah, but it wouldn't take much investigation to see how involved I got in the whole scenario, with the trial and all. They could say I got too close, that I overstepped the boundaries. They might even be right—'

'Chris. It'll be fine, I promise. And no matter what, I'm here, yeah?'

She turned away, taking a sip from her neglected cup and grimacing at the bitterness of the oversteeped tea.

'Even if I end up kicked out?'

'Especially then.' He squeezed her shoulders. 'Look on the bright side, if you're not at school we can snog whenever and wherever we want—'

Her lips twitched at that. 'Tom Clarkson, superannuated teenager—' She gave a a little gasp as he took the tea from her and spun her round to face him. 'Tom—'

'Superannuated nothin'. Besides,' he went on with a smirk, 'I wouldn't start with those jokes. You're older than I am, remember?'

'By about six months!'

'Six months is still six months. I'm your toy boy, me.'

'_Urrgh_,' grumbled Connor as he stumbled in, black hair every which way. 'Don't you two ever stop?'

'Don't you?' Tom retorted before Christine could respond. 'Didn't I hear your mother banging on your door last night for a solid five minutes—'

'Yeah, well.' Connor dismissed that with a wave. 'We're allowed.' He pulled open the fridge door and Christine winced in anticipation. She was not disappointed; her son turned an accusing stare on her. 'There's no eggs. How'm'I supposed to make breakfast without eggs?'

'I don't need anything,' Christine said hurriedly. 'I'm not hungry.' Now Connor's glare was joined by Tom's. 'I'm not. I'll make myself a cup of tea and get dressed—'

'I'll bring you something up,' Tom said flatly.

Connor clapped the older man on the back. 'Thanks, mate. She never listens to me.'

'You're a pair of naggers,' Christine muttered. She wasn't a morning person at the best of times and it had been years since she'd enjoyed food first thing. 'I'll have something later, I promise—oh, morning, Imogen.'

Her daughter-in-law's bright eyes took in the scene at a glance, and her pointed face split in a grin. 'They ganging up on you again?'

Christine managed a forced smile and made her escape at last, her head pounding as she pulled the kitchen door shut behind her. The hall was blessedly dark and quiet and she took a moment to lean against a wall and pull herself together. Her eyes were hot and sore and her stomach flipped, and not just because of the forthcoming day.

It'd only been one glass of vodka, just one in the dead of night when the nightmares refused to fade even when she opened her eyes, even at the feel of Tom's reassuring warmth beside her. One glass to help her sleep—and she'd poured the rest down the sink with a hand that had trembled only a little as every instinct screamed in silent protest. She'd cleaned her teeth carefully and climbed back into bed, the vodka sloshing unpleasantly in her tummy. Sleep had come, but not restful sleep; past and present and future had collided, leaving her slick with sweat and gasping with fear when she woke again … and now she was struggling to remember what she'd done with the bottle. If Connor discovered it—

Her mouth went dry and she pushed herself away from the wall and began to mount the stairs. Connor would not discover it, she told herself firmly. And even if he did, it had only been one glass. Just one.

* * *

**Barry Household, 8.00am**

* * *

'Dyn? Dynasty, are you up?'

'Yeah, Munch, I'm decent. Come right in.' Dynasty Barry finished running a brush through her sleek bob and gave a short nod of satisfaction at the sight of her reflection in the mirror. Her uniform was immaculate, her hair neat, her make-up subtle. She gave her Head Girl badge a small pat and turned to face her younger sister, who was peeping around the door.

'Where's Kev?'

'Still in the shower.'

'Still?' Kacey shook her head slightly. 'He's in there even longer'n you used to be, before you cut yer 'air.'

'Come and sit down,' Dynasty invited, doing so herself on the big double bed she and Kevin shared. Her boyfriend had moved in on Christmas Day and they'd hardly been apart since. 'What's up? Is it—Barry?'

Kacey's head tilted in a characteristic pose. 'It's always Barry. I'm scared, Dyn. Of goin' back there. Where it 'appened.'

'I know, babe.' Dynasty pressed her forehead against Kacey's and sighed. 'I'm not exactly looking forward to it meself.'

'Will it be gone?' Kacey blurted. 'The blood? Barry's blood? I read somewhere that it soaks into wood an' you can never get it off. Like that place McFall brought us to last year, that old palace with the blood on the floor.'

'What are you talkin' about?'

'That place in Edinburgh. Holly-something.'

'What's that about holly?' Kevin asked as he entered, mostly dressed and rubbing his hair with a towel. 'Dyn, have you seen me tie? And badge?'

'They're on the table where you left them last night,' Dynasty told him tartly. 'What do you this is, I'm your maid or somethin'?'

Kevin grinned as he tossed the towel in the corner. 'You're me personal brain, for all the important useful stuff.'

'The practical stuff, you mean,' Dynasty said, handing him the tie when he continued to look vaguely about the room. 'Some day you're gonna be like one of them professors you see on the telly, the boffiny ones that don't 'ave a clue about real life.'

'So? I've got you, don't I? Now tell us what Kace was sayin' about holly.'

Kacey remained quiet and Dynasty gave her sister a nudge. 'Go on, ask 'im. Betcha he'll know.'

'I—' Kacey tried before her voice seemed to die and she had stop; Dynasty could feel the effort it took for her speak again. 'I was wonderin'. About the hall in school, d'you think they'll have got the blood off? Or will it be like that place in Edinburgh, the castle with the plaque on the floor?'

'Holyrood House, you mean. Nah, you can bet Mrs M will 'ave sorted it. Not good for a school, is it?'

'What d'you mean, babe?' Dynasty asked as she pulled her sister close.

Kevin glanced up from settling his tie. 'That spot you're talkin' about, it makes Holyrood loads, don't it? People come to see it, the place where David Rizzio died. Who knows if it's even real blood? Could just be a money-spinnin' con for all we know.'

Dynasty could feel some of the tension leave Kacey's shoulders as the younger girl lifted her head.

'D'you mean it?'

'Yup. Honest, Kace, you don't need to worry about that. There won't be a sign of what happened, I promise.'

'Except inside us,' Kacey said very quietly. 'No-one can wipe them stains away.'

Dynasty chewed her lip and tried to keep her emotions under control as she was swamped by a suffocating wave of grief. Kevin must have realised, for he came to sit beside her, pulling both Barry girls into his arms. He was thin and slender for his age, but somehow he had the strength to hold them.

It was Kacey who drew back first, wiping at her eyes. 'What's the time?'

'Nearly time to go,' Dynasty managed through the tight pain in her throat. 'You ready, Kev? I don't wanna be late.'

'Yeah.' Kevin blew out a sigh. 'Just need to find me shoes.'

Kacey gave a spluttered laugh. 'God, Kev, Dyn's right. You get worse every day. I can see one of 'em from right here.'

Kevin blinked. 'Where?'

Kacey rose and Dynasty noticed that she seemed to sway. Only she must have imagined it, for almost at once her sister was moving with lithe grace to excavate Kevin's trainer from the pile of clothes on the floor.

'Here's one,' she called, chucking it towards them. Her aim was true and Kevin squawked as he grabbed it. 'An' here's…. The other!' she ended triumphantly as she flourished it.

Kevin went to take it. 'You're a star, kiddo.'

'Kiddo yourself,' Kacey complained. 'Yer only a bit older than me.'

'And I'm a prefect!' Kevin reminded her with more than a touch of smugness. 'Don't forget that, Kace. When we're in school I can tell you what to do.'

'Huh, yeah. Like to see it,' Kacey scoffed as Dynasty froze halfway through checking the contents of her bag. She only dimly heard the rest of the conversation between Kacey and Kevin as the former departed, was only dimly aware of her surroundings until Kevin gave her a slight shake.

'Are you OK?' He sounded alarmed.

Her breath caught as she looked up at him. 'It—it was what you said. About bein' a prefect. Oh, God, Kev, I never even thought. We're a prefect down, aren't we? Lost our Head Boy. We're gonna need a new one, aren't we—' Her voice broke.

He squeezed her hands so hard it hurt. 'We'll make it through, Dyn, you'll see,' he insisted. 'We'll survive. We got through last term, we can get through this.'

As Dynasty allowed him to pull her to her feet she found herself wishing she could be so sure.

* * *

**Grantly House, 8.30am**

* * *

'Breakfast is up, you lot. Come and get it!'

Rhiannon Salt grinned across the room she now shared with Jasmine Maguire. Two new girls had made some doubling up necessary and both girls had jumped at the chance when Mrs Budgen offered it, the Christmas holidays having cemented the bond that had begun to form over the previous term.

'There's Mags yellin', Jas. Ready? I'm starvin'.'

'Nothin' new there,' Jasmine returned, her eyes bright with amusement. 'You go on down, I'll be there in a sec. Just gotta finish me 'air first.'

'I don't know why yer always complainin',' Rhiannon observed as she paused with a hand on their dormitory door. 'You're dead lucky to have them curls. Most people'd kill for 'em—oh _bollocks_. I'm sorry, babe. Didn't think.'

Jasmine shook her head, keeping her eyes averted from her friend's. 'S'OK, honest. Go on, I'll be there proper quick.'

The sound of the door closing slowly proclaimed Rhiannon's reluctance, and Jasmine exhaled a shuddery breath once she was certain she was alone. Rhiannon hadn't meant it, she reminded herself. She just had a habit of "opening mouth and inserting foot" as Audrey—Miss McFall—had observed during the holidays. Certainly she'd inserted foot this time as only weeks before Jasmine's brother Steve had been responsible for the death of the school's Head Boy. Granted, Barry Barry had bullied and bribed his way to the position, and he'd controlled through fear rather than respect or love, but he'd still been one of them. A fellow pupil, part of the Waterloo Road family. Not even his worst enemy in school would have wished his death upon him—and he'd died a hero by saving his sister's life. Barry had been something of a legend in life for all the wrong reasons; Jasmine was sure he'd continue to be a legend in death. Given that, how could she possibly show her face in school now? Audrey and Maggie had told her it wasn't her fault, reminded her that she'd been instrumental in securing Steve-o's arrest, but that did help the fear that curdled deep inside. How could she face everyone who'd suffered at her brother's hands the term before?

Someone banged on the door and she stiffened, her fingers tightening over the wide-toothed comb she used. She didn't want to go downstairs yet. Everyone had returned the night before and she'd managed to avoid them by claiming she still hadn't finished her holiday homework. Rhiannon had given her the latest gossip, including a description of the two new girls. One in particular was a nosy cow, Rhiannon had opined; she'd been wide-eyed with excitement over the school's latest and had demanded all the (literally) gory details. Whilst Rhiannon had put down a large and heavy foot, Jasmine was sure someone would have obliged and surely that someone would not have neglected to point out that the murderer's sister was under Grantly House's very roof. The prospect of facing the old gang was bad enough without new people being chucked in for good measure.

'Jas!' Harley Taylor yelled. 'I know yer in there, McFall said to come an' get yer.'

_She would_, Jasmine thought with a flicker of old resentment as she remained very quiet and still. If she didn't respond perhaps the younger student would give up.

Vain hope. Another thump on the door.

'Come on!' Harley was sounding increasingly impatient. 'You can't hole up in there forever.'

She sighed and dragged unwilling feet across the room to the door, opening it so quickly that Harley only just avoiding falling over the threshold. He caught himself on the doorposts, dark eyes scanning her face anxiously.

'You comin'?' he pressed. Jasmine bit into her lip and he gave her a light punch on the shoulder. 'I'll come wiv yer. It'll be fine, we're all yer mates.'

'I don't want them all lookin' at me,' Jasmine said quietly. 'Starin', you know. Like I'm some freak. Especially them new girls.'

'They're nearly done. McFall was hustlin' them along, you know what she's like.'

Jasmine gave a reluctant grin at that. She did indeed.

'Come on,' Harley urged again. 'Yer don't want another of McFall's brekkie lectures, do yer?'

The sixth former sighed again and capitulated. 'Fine, I'm comin'.' She trailed Harley down the stairs, her fingers running along the painted panelling. The sound of voices mingling with the clatter of cutlery and crockery drifted towards them and she froze once again, a mad bevy of butterflies swooping in her stomach.

Someone emerged from the dining room just as they reached the foot of the stairs and Jasmine's heart sank when she heard Harley's muffled 'Bugger'. The girl was someone she'd never seen before, slighter taller than Jasmine herself with perfectly coiffed strands of blonde lying over her shoulders and blue eyes wide with fascinated curiosity.

'Oh _hello_,' she greeted in plummy tones that made Jasmine's own eyes widen. 'You must be Jasmine, aren't you. The murderer's sister, it's all perfectly thrilling.' She sidled closer while Jasmine tried to retreat up the stairs, Harley's presence at her back preventing any further flight. 'You must tell me all about it, I must know absolutely every last detail … My grandpapa would _adore_ to hear it, he does love a thriller so.'

'A—a thriller?' Jasmine stammered, hardly able to believe her ears. 'Is—is this a windup?'

Now the blue eyes facing hers were filled with injured innocence. 'Of course not, who could possibly joke about such a thing?'

'Ignore 'er, Jas, she's just some stupid new girl,' Harley fumed over Jasmine's right shoulder. 'C'mon, let's get brekker before it's all gone.'

He gripped her wrist and pulled her past the blonde into the comparative sanctuary of the hall.

* * *

Neither noticed the speculative gleam that appeared in the blue eyes, or the satisfied quirk of the lips that appeared once the new girl was alone.

'Louisa: _one_, Waterloo Road: _nil_,' she murmured, eyes turning hard with determination. 'I'll get you what you need by lunchtime, Gramps. I promise.'

* * *

_TBC, and don't forget to let me know what you think of this beginning!_


	2. Episode 1-2

_Hiya all! Thanks for all the reviews, favourites and follows, especially to:_

_**Guest**: Thank you! Good to see you back!_

_**Chantelucy**: Thanks! :)_

_**Daydreams-About-Falling-Stars**: I always intended to do a sequel, it was just a case of waiting for inspiration to hit. Took its time in coming, but..._

_**Jessiekat**: Yeah, there are some definite similarities between Louisa and Gabi, and physically I imagine them as very similar. However, that's pretty much where it stops—or so I hope!_

_Some familiar faces will appear in this story, but fair warning: they aren't always what they seem and I'm following my own interpretation of their characters so there may be some divergence from canon. Warning number two: this part is obscenely long, much longer than intended. You may want to be sitting comfortably. Most important of all—enjoy and please don't forget to let me know what you think!_

* * *

**Waterloo Road Carpark, 8.00am**

* * *

Tom locked his car with a jaunty press of the button on his key and twisted on one heel to look for Christine, who'd driven in just behind him. They'd decided to come to school separately until they'd had time to gauge the reaction to their relationship. They knew their friends would be happy for them but they were anxious to avoid any suggestion of unprofessionalism.

The carpark was gradually filling up, he noted. Nikki Boston went past with a terse nod and wave, to be followed by—wonder of wonders—George Windsor, and Tom's eyebrows shot up.

'Well done, mate!' he shouted to the other man, ignoring the glare Christine sent him as she locked her own car. 'You're actually in before 8.45, this a new year's resolution of yours?'

The French teacher stopped, his expression sour enough to curdle milk. 'Something like that.' He glanced from Tom to Christine, who was in the process of stacking plastic crates on the ground. 'Aren't you going to give our dear leader a hand?'

'I can manage perfectly well, thanks,' Christine put in tartly, and Tom grinned, shifting the pile of folders he was carrying.

'See? She wouldn't thank me for it. Besides, I've no hands to give. _You_, however—'

George gave him a second dirty look, but he took the hint and went to unburden Christine of two of the three plastic crates she was struggling with. Tom followed, giving his lover a half-wink as she rearranged her lightened burden.

'Thanks,' she told George, but her eyes sought out Tom's and it required effort to prevent the silly grin that wanted to come from spreading over his face.

This was still so new, he was infatuated as he hadn't been for… well, longer than he cared to remember. No wonder Connor and Imogen were by turns amused and bemused; if he was their age, he thought he would be, too. Sometimes he wondered if he was going through some kind of second adolescence; it was as if his entire being craved constant nearness to Christine in the way a flower craves the sun … but he knew better than to say so. Christine was still too wary, too damaged, for such effusions to carry much weight.

'What did your last slave die of?' George was grumbling as Christine stopped to lift several books from her own crate and dump them into his.

'Shut up and get moving,' she snapped, brushing past Tom and George as they moved across the carpark, up the steps, and through the main front door into the foyer. 'I'm the boss. And you're in flat shoes, I'm not. That enough for you?'

George paused to give a sorrowful shake of the head. 'Frailty, thy name is woman—'

'Do one, George!' drifted back to them.

Tom chuckled as George literally stopped to gape down the corridor after her.

'Sorry, mate. Livin' with teenagers, you know?'

The other man grunted and started to move towards the offices, while Tom's own progress there was halted by the sight of a young woman coming up the steps with what looked suspiciously like a small suitcase on wheels. Chivalry made him dump his bag and folders next to the sixth form lockers and cross the foyer to give her a hand.

'Oh thank you,' she gushed up at him as he took the suitcase from her. 'Honestly, you didn't need to, I have this down to a fine art. I was an air stewardess you see.'

'Ah,' said Tom, not really seeing at all.

The young woman stuck out a well-manicured hand. 'I'm Sue, it's good to meet you. And you are—?'

Thoroughly discomfited by her confident manner, Tom blinked twice before saying, 'Tom. Er, Tom Clarkson. Deputy Head,' he clarified as a pair of copper eyebrows rose in polite query. 'I'm sorry, Sue, but who—?'

'Oh, gosh, how silly of me! I'm the new Science teacher. Well, NQT, really, but oh my goodness, it's so amazing being actually able to call myself a proper teacher, it doesn't feel real yet, you know?'

'Er—'

'So what happens now?' Sue breezed without giving him a chance to answer. 'I mean, surely there must be procedures, something to do, rules you follow…' She giggled. 'I know all about rules. Cheltenham Ladies, then York, then St Hilda's for teacher training… and here I am, back at school! And the new girl, again!'

'Right,' Tom said, finally finding his tongue. He'd met some strange NQTs over the years but never one who insisted on chatting to one of her bosses as though they were at a cocktail party. 'You'd better come with me and meet the Head,' he continued, allowing his tone to become brisk. 'We're glad to have you, our science teaching has been rather lacking for the last term or two.'

'Well, gosh, I'm sure no-one cared–except perhaps the exam people,' Sue twittered as he led her towards Christine's office. 'I mean, from what I've read it was all awfully dramatic last term, what with abductions and murders and goodness knows what else! I told my dad working here could be the most exciting thing that's happened to me, _ever_!'

'Yeah,' he agreed absently as he opened the door into the offices. Sonya gave him a grin and a wave, and he paused.

'Sue, this is Sonya, the school secretary. She'll help you find your feet a bit.'

'Right you are!' Sonya agreed warmly, bustling around her desk to take Sue's hand and give it an enthusiastic pumping. 'And you know what the first bit of bein' made welcome is?'

Sue looked somewhat taken aback, Tom was glad to see. Sonya, on the other hand, was her usual unfazed self.

'Why, it's rosie lea, innit? How'd you wannit? Black, milk, sugar, lemon? We got 'em all.'

'Not in here we don't,' Christine interjected as she came to stand by the door that separated her office from Sonya's. 'Everything's still in the staffroom.'

Sonya's mouth formed a round O. 'Yeah, that's right, boss. We moved 'em after—'

'Sonya,' Christine interrupted gently, and the younger woman took the hint and vanished into the staffroom. The Head's mouth twitched as she turned to Tom and his NQT. 'And you are Miss Sue Spark, isn't that right?'

'You remembered!' It came as a girlish squeal that hurt the Deputy Head's ears.

Christine gave a little laugh. 'Oh yes. Your references were so good I couldn't possibly forget.'

'Awww.' Sue heaved a happy little sigh and looked from Tom to Christine and back. 'Do you know, I think I'm just going to _adore_ it here.'

Tom had to pull his expression straight and severe to cover the wild desire to laugh. Christine did not look as though she shared his amusement; there was tightness about her mouth and eyes and her smile was too stretched.

'Right,' she said, and Tom's gaze narrowed as he studied her. 'Well, Miss Spark, it's good to meet you. I'll make time for you this morning to discuss your induction; I realise it will be difficult as you are our only science specialist on staff at the moment, but we'll do our best for you.'

'Awww!' Sue gushed again, apparently not hearing the implicit dismissal in the Head's words, and Tom found he was no longer amused.

'Why don't you go on into the staffroom and get your tea from Sonya there,' he suggested. 'Mrs Mulgrew and I will be in shortly for briefing in any case, so we'll catch up with you then.'

Sue opened her mouth and he caught her eye. Abruptly, she shut it again and twisted on her heel, jerking her little case along with smooth expertise. When the connecting door had closed behind her, Tom turned to face Christine.

'Chris. What—is—_that_?'

Her head clunked back against the doorpost. 'The only science specialist we could get,' she said grimly. 'I lied just now. It was easy enough to remember her; she was the only one who applied. I didn't have much choice, especially when the council endorsed her.'

'An NQT?' Tom demanded incredulously, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder and steering her into her own room. 'Bit weird, don't you think.'

She gave a small shrug. 'Is it? Science is a shortage subject and her academic credentials are good. Beggars can't be choosers.'

'H'mmm. Kids'll have her for breakfast and spit out the bits.'

'Yeah.' She sighed, already sounding tired, and he longed to pull her into his arms for a hug. A few weeks ago he would have; now he was too aware of the need to keep those all-important professional boundaries up. 'Tom, keep an eye on her, would you?'

''Course I will. Part of my job as Deputy Head, isn't it.'

She groaned. 'I'm sorry, you know that. Of course you do, you've been doing this longer than I have.'

'Sit down,' Tom ordered and watched as she obeyed, her elbows going to the desk and her fingers pressing at her temples. 'I'll get your tea and we can talk. What's first for this morning?'

'Barry, Barry and Barry… with the staff and the kids. We can't pretend it didn't happen, it has to be addressed.'

'Yeah.' He stopped at the door when Sonya appeared, armed with his mug and Christine's. 'Son, you're a star. Thanks for this!'

He was about withdraw into the Head's office when the secretary made him pause with a furtive glance towards the staffroom.

'She's hiding sommat,' she whispered. 'Knows too much, she does, an' she was rootin' for more. Asking' about you and Christine and Barry and that. I don't like it. Watch yourselves, yeah?'

Now it was Tom's turn to give a strained smile, the old familiar feeling of disquiet twisting in his belly.

_Hey-ho_, he thought as he went to hand Christine her tea and take a seat facing her with his own, _trouble's looming. Already. So what else is new…_

* * *

**Hall, 9.00am**

* * *

The school hall was filled with the sound of students scraping their chairs as they sat down, but any chat was desultory at best and one of Louisa's perfectly groomed eyebrows rose in a quizzical expression as she studied her new schoolmates and their environment. It was far from what she was accustomed to; the hall's wooden floor bore deep gouges and scrapes, one of the stained glass panes that separated hall from foyer had been smashed, and a light strip above her was flickering in a fashion that proclaimed its imminent demise. Nor were the pupils any better; there were few immaculate uniforms and even fewer cut-glass accents.

On the stage a big lectern took pride of place, and it was flanked on the one hand by a group of staff and on the other by the assembled prefects. These last looked very serious, Louisa noted, but even the Head Girl was not what she'd expected. Her lip curled; what kind of representative was she if she couldn't even wear the uniform properly? The skirt, tights and shoes were correct enough, but the quilted jacket was decidedly _not_ the blazer that Louisa herself sported, and the corners of her mouth tilted upwards as she thought back to her last school. She'd disagreed violently with Paris Russell's appointment, but at least she'd _looked_ the part. Here… her lips gave a little quiver as she crossed her ankles neatly, as she'd been taught, and looked for someone to talk to.

There she was out of luck. Year 11, in front of her, were too busy collecting around a girl hunched in their centre to care about a new sixth former. Everyone who was anyone was up on the stage, meaning that the remnants were barely worth Louisa's attention. The younger children were definitely not worth her attention, and the only other girl on her row was the short person she'd encountered on the stairs earlier in Grantly House. Her name was Jasmine, Louisa remembered, and she was the murderer's sister … but when Louisa tried to catch her eye the other girl rose and moved to the row behind.

Louisa's mouth twitched again, this time from discomfort. She wasn't used to being ignored, let alone being ignored as pointedly at this. When someone touched her shoulder she jumped, and only just managed to smooth out the glare that wanted to come in response.

'Don't mind her,' the girl who'd tapped her from behind said. 'She's a funny one, Jas Maguire.'

'She seems to be,' Louisa agreed, allowing dimples to form. They made her look innocently sweet, and she'd known from early childhood how to use them to her advantage. 'Honestly, the way she reacted this morning when I tried to introduce myself! Anyone'd have thought she was the murderer and I was the police!'

The other girl grinned. 'Yeah, she's twitchy. Always has been. Don't bother with her, no-one likes her anyway. Even Dynasty an' that only pretend, 'cos after all Jas did help rescue Connor and Kacey last term—'

Louisa's eyes widened. She hadn't heard about _this_. 'Rescue them? How? And who're Connor and Kacey?'

Her companion pointed to the empty seat. 'Can I—?'

Louisa nodded, waiting patiently until the other was sitting next to her. 'I'm Louisa, by the way. What's your name?'

'Rebecca, but I'm always Becs. The only person who calls me Rebecca is Mr Windsor, him up there with t'long nose an' grumpy face. And the Head, when she's in a snit in English.' Becs sighed. 'Serious, after Connor went missin' I swear I was called Rebecca then more'n anyone had done, like, _ever_!'

'How come?'

Becs shifted, one eye going to the door, as if to watch for the Head's arrival. 'Well, he's 'er son, innit? That's him up there, in the front row next to Dynasty, the Head Girl. The empty space is for Barry, him that was killed last term. He was Head Boy, y'see. And then on Dyn's other side, the skinny kid, that's 'er boyfriend Kevin, He's the school genius. And the girl next to Connor who looks like a goth, she's Imogen, Connor's wife and Deputy Head Girl. They're all best mates, like.'

This distracted Louisa from the story of the rescue. 'You mean… _all_ of the senior prefects are closely connected to the Head's son?' Becs nodded. 'But… that's terribly unfair! That's nepotism, having the Head's son as Deputy Head Boy—'

'Oh, he's not. That's Jack, but 'e's late, as usual. Connor's just a prefect.'

'Even so, the Head's daughter-in-law as Deputy Head Girl, her son as a prefect, and their best friends as Head Girl and Deputy Head Boy—doesn't Mrs Mulgrew see an awful lot of them?'

Becs gave a nod. 'Don't she just. An' it gets better,' she added, leaning in closer, ''cos last term, before the trial, Dynasty there moved into the Mulgrews'. She lived there for ages 'til they had some row over Dynasty's abortion.'

Louisa's jaw dropped. 'Abortion?!'

There was no time for Becs to answer, for the hall's double doors opened and the school rose to its collective feet as Mrs Mulgrew, dressed in black, passed down the central aisle on her way to the stage, the heels of her shoes ringing loud amidst the sudden silence. Louisa eyed her new headmistress curiously as she took her place and found that once again she was surprised. She'd half-expected to find Waterloo Road's headteacher teetering drunkenly on the edge of the stage, her words slurring … but when Christine Mulgrew began to speak it was in a crisp voice accented by nothing more than her Glasgow burr.

'Welcome back to school, everyone! I hope you enjoyed your holidays and'— she paused to give several people a meaning look—'that you've returned to school remembering that this is an exam term and that you're prepared to work _hard_.' The students groaned, but there was no further protest and the Head's expression turned very grave. 'I know it must be strange for you to be here, in this room. Harder for some than others,' she added, giving a nod in Dynasty's direction, but the Head Girl did not acknowledge it; she continued to stare straight ahead, her eyes burning in a white face. 'It was a traumatic experience for everyone, and Barry's loss is felt by all of us as a school. He was our Head Boy, and he died a hero, saving his sister's life. Let's take a minute to remember him.'

As quiet descended on the hall Louisa heard a muffled sound next to her and glanced towards Becs; only the girl was not crying as she had at first feared. Instead, it looked as if she was trying not to laugh. Shocked in spite of herself, Louisa stared at her and Becs hissed, 'This is dead stupid, Barry was no hero—'

The shock-headed boy from that morning in Grantly House turned around to glare, his eyes shooting daggers at them. 'Shut up, you! Kacey'll 'ear you!'

Becs returned the glare and looked as if she was about to retort but Louisa jabbed her into quiet, anxious to avoid having attention drawn to her too soon.

'Right,' Mrs Mulgrew said once the minute's remembrance had expired, 'it's time you lot were in lessons, especially as break will be longer than usual.' There was an interested rustle and she explained. 'Barry… was Head Boy. The school has to go on, we need a new Head Boy. As before, your candidates are the other prefects: Connor, Kevin, Jack, Alex and Ryan. We'll also need another male prefect, but I think we'll leave that for today. You should all know those five well enough to make your minds up quickly, so at the end of period two your teachers will hand out voting slips. You'll have ten minutes to vote in addition to your usual twenty minute break; lessons start again at twenty to eleven but note, people! Lunch _will_ be shorter than usual to make up!' Another groan and she tutted. 'OK, I think that's everything. Election results will be announced in the dining hall at lunch, and again at afternoon registration. Up you get and—go!' She gestured as she finished, and the school obeyed on the word, the big room immediately filling with noise as the school hastened to get to its various classes.

As Louisa rose, ignoring the dribble of Becca's chatter, her eyes sought out the group of people on the stage and she gave an inward grin of satisfaction. With everyone else otherwise occupied, Mrs Mulgrew had gone to the prefects and was sitting on the empty seat with an arm around Dynasty, surrounded by her son, her daughter-in-law, and Dynasty's boyfriend.

_Nepotism_, Louisa reminded herself gleefully. It was rank nepotism and terribly unprofessional. And then another teacher came up—

'That's Mr Clarkson, the Deputy Head,' Becca observed and Louisa gave a distracted nod. 'He's dead nice, everyone likes him—oh, my _god_!'

Louisa's smirk came to fore once again as she saw the cause of Bec's surprise: Mr Clarkson's hand going to rest on Mrs Mulgrew's shoulder as he leaned over for a word, and the Head's response of a quick pat in a gesture of automatic intimacy that proclaimed their closeness louder than any words. Delight bubbled within the new girl; this was getting better and better: nepotism amongst the prefects _and_ an inappropriate love affair? Gramps would be so pleased.

* * *

**Mr Clarkson's room, 9.50am**

* * *

'All right, Year 12, wind your necks in!' Mr Clarkson ordered. 'The bell's going in ten minutes and you heard the Head in Assembly, we've voting to do. But,' he added impressively, 'if you mess around now I'll carry on after the bell's gone and that'll delay your voting and—well, I'm sure you can see where I'm going.' He grinned and the class grinned back and quietened down.

'Mocks start next week. Everyone happy with how their revision's going?'

Imogen raised her hand. 'I'm happy with mine, but could we have a session on essay writing in exams?' she asked anxiously. ''Cos of the time, it's not very long to write four essays, is it—'

'Nope, but you're in luck, Mrs Mulgrew,' Tom told her. 'I meant to tell you before; the exam board have said you can have extra time.'

Imogen felt her face flame as the rest of the class erupted. She couldn't hear what they were saying, but the sheer volume made it clear they weren't happy. Tom's eyes popped and she lipread his muttered _Shit_ and realised that he'd come out with that without thinking. It was the sort of thing he should have told her in private…

'It's OK sir, I don't need it,' she said hurriedly, eager to quell the riot. 'Never used it before, did I?'

'You may as well use it, you're entitled to it,' Mr Clarkson argued.

'But—' Imogen tried.

'How much time does she get?' Dynasty interrupted.

Now Tom was looking throughly discomfited. 'I don't think—'

'What about me, eh?' the Head Girl demanded, her tone shaded with aggression. 'Do I get no extra time? How much revision d'you think I've been able to do after watchin' me brother get gunned down three weeks ago?'

An unfamiliar voice said something behind Imogen. She couldn't make out the words, but the cadences were not common at Waterloo Road; they were too smooth, too modulated, and she wasn't altogether surprised when Dynasty stiffened and swirled in her seat. Curiosity getting the better of her, Imogen did likewise and found herself face to face with the Sixth's only new girl.

'D'you wanna say that again to me face?' Dynasty said fiercely, ignoring Mr Clarkson's order to keep quiet.

The new girl looked amused. 'I was only stating a fact. Imogen is deaf, is she not?'

Imogen quailed as Dynasty's chin lifted. 'So?'

'She's disabled, isn't she,' the new girl said, and all at once Imogen was as furious as her friend. 'She's disadvantaged, that's why she gets extra time, so that she can write in proper sentences—'

'All right, that's enough,' Mr Clarkson said, physically coming to stand in front of the new girl when the Head Girl leaned over threateningly. 'Turn around, everyone. Dynasty, that means you too—'

'But sir, you 'eard what she said about Imogen! She's not talkin' about anyone like that!'

Mr Clarkson glanced at them and barked out an order for the class as a whole to take out their file blocks and start drafting a revision timetable. Then he came to kneel in front of Imogen and Dynasty.

'Just leave it,' he said quietly. 'She's just a new girl, what does she know. Imogen, I'm sorry. I opened me gob before I thought … and yes, Dyn, you're right. You're due extra time for the exams and so is Kace. I'll talk to Christine about it, OK?'

Imogen watched out of the corner of her eye as Dynasty visibly simmered down and exhaled a sigh of relief. Mr Clarkson met her eyes and gave a tiny nod; she responded with a small smile.

'Good,' the Deputy Head said as he rose, glancing past the girls towards the clock. 'And the bell's about to go, folks. You,' he pointed at the new girl, 'you can hand out the slips sittin' on my desk. Go on, move!'

A jab in the ribs brought Imogen's attention back to Dynasty.

'We're gonna have to do somethin' about that one,' the Head Girl said darkly with a meaning nod in the new girl's direction. 'She's gonna be trouble, I heard all about her from Rhiannon earlier.'

Imogen's eyebrows went up. 'Yeah?'

'Yeah.' Dynasty gave a sickly smile when the slips landed in front of them. 'I say, thank you dahling,' she said in a parody of a 'posh' voice. The new girl simply moved on and Imogen looked reproachfully at her best friend.

'Come on, Dyn, you've got to give her a chance.'

'No I don't,' Dynasty snapped. 'I'm good at readin' people, me. I knew she was trouble even before Rhiannon told me about 'er quizzing people in the School House about Barry. Nothin' to do wi' 'er, is it? She's out for the gossip.'

'Can't blame her for that,' Imogen pointed out as she scribbled a name on her slip and folded it up. 'It's just a story to her.'

'Yeah? Well, it ain't no story to me,' Dynasty hissed. 'It's my life, it's me family's life, I'm not havin' some toff pore over all the details like we were some soap rag.'

'Dyn—'

'No, Imogen!' Dynasty slammed her pen down on the desk, making Imogen jump. 'Don't you dare try to make excuses for that cow, for anyone just out fer a cheap thrill over what happened to our Barry!'

'I'm not, I'm just trying to—'

Dynasty pushed her chair back with a jarring scrape that vibrated unpleasantly through Imogen's spine. 'Some best mate you turned out to be!'

'What's going on here?' Mr Clarkson demanded. 'Come on, Dynasty. You're Head Girl, you can't mess about like this—'

'What I can't do is sit 'ere and watch _this_.' Dynasty picked up her slip and pointedly ripped it in two, allowing the fragments to flutter to the floor. 'Sorry, sir, but whoever gets 'Ead Boy will be gettin' it without my vote!' With that, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the classroom, allowing the door to close behind her with a slam that made even Imogen wince.

'All right everyone, show over,' Tom said. 'Two minutes and the election's over, get on with it.'

Already finished, Imogen concentrated on packing her bag and getting ready to go as soon as the teacher gave the word. Once he did, she was one of the first on her feet. Her attempt to leave quickly was thwarted by the new girl.

'I'm awfully sorry,' she said apologetically. 'I didn't mean to put my foot in.'

'Yeah, well.' Imogen eyed her coolly, not forgetting what Dynasty had said. 'She's had a tough time lately.'

The new girl gave an elegant shrug. 'Absolutely, but haven't you had a tough time too? How long've you been deaf?' She signed the word for 'deaf' as she spoke and Imogen forgot about caution.

'You can sign!'

'Yeah.' The new girl switched off her voice and continued in BSL more fluent than Imogen's had ever been. 'My sister's deaf, she's at school in Newbury. I can't pretend I know what it's like, but I know something about it.'

'I've been deaf since I was a kid,' Imogen blurted as they left Mr Clarkson's room. 'But then, last term, it suddenly got worse. I used to be moderately deaf but now…' She gave a strained laugh and switched to BSL in her own turn. 'Now I'm deafer than that doorpost.'

The new girl put a hand on her arm. 'You're so brave to stay here, in mainstream,' she signed. 'It must be so hard.'

Imogen shrugged. 'Yeah, well.'

'It must help having your mother-in-law as Head.'

'Yeah, she's been amazin',' Imogen agreed. 'I don't think I could've stayed without her in my corner, her and Connor, they've kept me afloat. Well, and Dynasty and Kev too, of course. They're great mates, I'm dead lucky.'

'And now you've got me,' the new girl said, her hands moving with fluid grace. 'I'd like to be friends.'

A slow smile spread across Imogen's face. A combination of deafness, intelligence and a certain geekiness had prevented her from making friends easily. 'Can never have too many.'

'Definitely.' The other's girl's sign had emphasis.

'Yeah. Oh, one more thing, I still don't know your name?'

'It's Louisa.' The new girl fingerspelled her name. 'My sister calls me Lulu, she says it's easier to say—and sign!'

'Lulu,' Imogen said aloud. 'That's kind of cute, provided no-one confuses you with our one and only Lula.' She grinned and yanked out her phone to check the time. ', it's nearly twenty to. Gotta go or I'll be late for history.'

'Same,' Louisa signed, and the two exchanged a smile. 'Will you show me where to go? I'd hate to get lost and get in Miss McFall's black books when she's my house-mistress!'

By this time Imogen had put Dynasty's qualms aside. Dynasty, she reminded herself, was still grieving and thus inclined to be over-sensitive. Louisa—Lulu—was nice, and it was so _good_ to be able to talk to someone without having to strain to lipread. Dynasty would understand, she thought as she took Louisa's arm. She wasn't selfish about friendship.

'Come on,' she said, pulling slightly in the direction of Miss McFall's room, 'I'll show you where to go.'

* * *

Apologies for how this looks, something's gone a bit weird with the lines I'm using to signify scene breaks. If anyone knows how to fix it please give me a shout! Take care and TBC...


	3. Episode 1-3

_Thanks for the reviews, favourites and follows! All much appreciated… but admittedly reviews most of all. So…_

_**Jessiekat**__: You're right not to trust her. As to who her Gramps is…. *G*_

_**Paisley**__: Yay, another familiar 'face'! Thanks for saying you think I've got Sue right. I was worried about going slightly OTT. She'd be really easy to turn into a caricature… but hopefully not, because I have plans for her in this. Whether they're nice is something else, but then I don't think she is a terribly nice character at all. _

_**Guest**__: Hi, this is an ensemble fic so there will be more Kacey (a little coming up right away, in fact) but the focus remains on the Mulgrews so this definitely won't be Kacey-centric in any real way. I doubt I'll pick up on any of the Kacey storylines from Season 9—at this point this fic is pretty AU so it wouldn't really work. _

* * *

**Library, 10.50am**

* * *

'Hey.'

Connor glanced up from the history he was attempting to revise without much success. 'Hey yourself.' He watched as his best mate sat down across from him, slinging his back on the table with a thump. 'Did you vote?'

'Yup.' Kevin began to pull books out. 'You?'

Connor's shoulders twitched. 'Uh… no.'

'Guessin' that means you didn't think I could do it,' Kevin commented without rancour. He dropped his voice. 'Me, I voted for you.'

'I don't think you're supposed to tell me that.' Connor began to fiddle with his pen. 'Sorry, mate. I should've voted for you, shouldn't I? Better you than Jack,' he added. 'Dynasty'd kill him.'

Kevin grinned and flipped open his file block, the pages covered with untidy random squiggles that looked like a form of abstract art. Somehow Kevin learned everything he needed to know from those squiggles _and_ managed to produce essay after brilliant essay with a minimum of apparent effort; by contrast, Connor spent hours taking detailed notes in his tiny script and even longer trying to pull something coherent together. There'd been times when he'd swallowed his pride and asked Imogen or his mother for help with his coursework, but in exams it was just him and his own brain.

A brain he was doubting more every day.

Kevin must have noticed his despondency.

''Sup?'

'It's this stupid history.' Connor slammed his textbook shut and slid it away from him. 'I used to like history, but that was when it was interesting. All this political stuff, it's dead dull. Who cares which king lost America?'

'Not the Americans, anyway,' Kevin grinned. 'Did you know they sent _The Madness of George III_ back 'cos they wanted to know where parts one and two were? That's why it was renamed.'

Connor laughed out loud at that. 'Serious?'

Kevin shrugged. 'S'what I read online. Might be bollocks though.'

'It's just… it's just it's all so _hard_,' Connor burst out. 'Everyone said A'levels'd be hard, a big jump from GCSE, but I thought they were kidding, just your normal teacher talk. There's so much to get into my head and none of it seems to stick and… I'm scared I'm gonna mess up,' he went on quietly, staring at the table rather than his best mate. 'Imogen and Mum, they're so sure I'm dead clever and that I'll do well but me? I don't feel clever. Not next to them. Not next to you.'

'Brains aren't everything.'

'They help when your mum's the Head,' Connor snapped, irritated by the platitude. 'And when your wife's talking about applying to the best unis in the country. What if I apply to Durham with her an' they don't want me?'

'More fool them, yeah?' Kevin reached across to give him a clap on the shoulder. 'Man up, mate. We're not at that point yet. Worry about it if it happens.'

'It'll happen.' Connor's self-confidence—never great at the best of times—had taken a new plunge off the back of his revision difficulties and the prospect of another Head Boy election. The last one had been excruciating enough. 'You know what they say, expect nothing and you won't be disappointed.'

A bell rang and Kevin jumped to his feet. 'Coming? We've got those science refreshers to go to, remember.'

'I don't see the point,' Connor grumbled as he followed suit. 'It's all a waste of time, I'm not ever doin' science again. Why won't they leave us alone for our frees? It only gives me more to do at night.'

'Well mate, you know what to do,' Kevin said with another clap of the shoulder. 'You've got a hotline to the Head an' Deputy Head. Complain to them instead of angstin' over it.'

Yeah, like he'd do anything to upset his mum just now, Connor thought. Tom's presence had helped, but he'd spent too long aware of her every mood to stop now. There'd been something … off… about her since Christmas, something tense and strained that made him wonder if she was contemplating returning to the drink, and he loathed himself for wondering, for doubting her when she'd tried so hard.

But Kevin was waiting, expecting something light and flippant. He complied with an 'I hate you sometimes, d'you know that?'

Kevin grinned. 'Only when I'm right.' He forged ahead and Connor followed more slowly, brushing past a gaggle of Year 11s as they streamed in.

Kacey Barry grabbed his arm and he stopped, not unduly worried at the prospect of being late. 'Kace. How's things?'

She lifted her eyes to his and once again he was struck by how much weight she'd lost in the past months; the fluorescent strip lights above them were harsh, highlighting every dip and hollow in her thin face.

Her lips quivered as she lifted one shoulder. 'You know me, I'm survivin'.' She seemed unwilling to move on and he didn't feel he could leave her; there was something hungry in her eyes.

It was a hunger that called to him, reminding him of the last afternoon of their kidnapping adventure. They'd escaped from the hut where they'd been held and neither were dressed for wandering about in sub-zero temperatures. Eventually they'd had to stop and rest and they'd huddled together for warmth—and Kacey had told him how nice he was and how she wished Barry could be more like him. The words had caused a warm glow deep inside Connor, a glow that continued to burn even after Barry's shocking death.

Kacey had lost her brother, he reminded himself now, but she still had him. If she wanted him. He gave her a loose one-armed hug. 'Just remember, I'm here for you.'

She nodded, appearing unwilling to move away. Then, 'I hope you get it.'

His brow contracted. 'What?'

''Ead Boy,' she went on. 'I 'ope it's you.'

'It won't be,' he said, his throat stiff. 'Nobody'd want us and it'd be too awkward anyway, what with my mum and all.'

Her chin lifted. 'Sod that. I know we're not s'posed to say, but you got my vote. I—I think you shoulda got it before, you'd 'ave been better than Barry.' She left him abruptly after that, and Connor was so surprised that he could only gape after her until he was recalled to himself by Miss Boston's trenchant demand for him to get to the science lab.

'You're a prefect, and Miss Spark's brand new,' she reminded him as she ushered him towards the library's double doors. 'Won't do to give a bad impression, will it now?' A light shove sent him on his way, and Connor's heart sank to his shoes as he plodded towards the stairs and the lab.

Great, just _great_. More expectations to fulfil; more people to disappoint.

* * *

**Head's Office, 11.30am**

* * *

'Well?' Christine leaned against her door and looked into the front office where Audrey and Sonya were sorting through the voting slips. She and Tom had agreed that it was better for them to remain uninvolved, given Connor. 'Any news?'

Audrey looked up. 'It's beginning to look fairly certain, I must say.' A moment of hesitation and then, 'It's not Connor. I'm sorry, Christine.'

She dismissed that with a wave. 'I'm not sure I expected it would be. I'm sorry for him, though. I think he could do with the cheering up.'

She kept her voice light; she didn't want to entertain the suspicion that Connor's mood dovetailed with her own. When she was happy, so was he. It was as simple and as inevitable as night following day and she hated it. He was practically an adult, a married man no less; wasn't it time for him to live his own life and leave his mother to deal with her own messes? But it didn't work like that for them. It never had.

Sonya broke into her thoughts by giving a little squeal. 'He got it! I told you he would, Audrey. That's a fiver you owe us an' all.'

'There's such a thing as a gracious winner, you know,' Audrey commented drily as she gathered the slips into the bin Christine had produced for the purpose. 'I'll pay up at lunch, I should have known better than to bet against it.'

'Kevin?' Christine asked. The other two nodded in tandem and a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. 'Can't pretend I'm surprised. I'm glad. I don't think that Dynasty could work with anyone else.'

Audrey's expression turned grave. 'Can she work with him?' she countered. 'In Barry's place? Personally I wouldn't be so sure, after her little explosion this morning.'

Christine glanced at the clock, aware of its ticking. The bell would be going shortly for the last lesson before lunch, and she was due with Year 12. She'd planned to announce the results, but … 'Explosion? What's this?'

The history teacher pursed her lips and fixed dark eyes on the Head. 'Tom said that there'd been tension between Dynasty and that new girl, Louisa. It came to a head over the voting slips. Apparently, Dynasty walked out without voting at all.' Audrey sighed. 'Christine, do you not think Carol Barry should've kept those girls home a bit longer? It's terribly soon—'

'It'd never be the right time,' Christine interrupted in a hard tone. 'Barry was killed here, in our school hall, there's nothing we can do to make that not true. No, I agree with Carol. Better for the girls to get straight back on, as it were.'

'But—'

'What would you rather they do, Audrey? Wallow in it? D'you know where that leads?'Audrey was quiet, but Christine was on a roll. 'Of course you don't, you've never experienced anything quite like that level of despair, have you.' A gasp from Sonya told Christine she should shut up, but it was as if some inner demon had taken possession of her. 'In case you've forgotten, those girls have been to hell and back in the past six months. If they stop they might never be able to get going again, if they stop too long to think—' Belatedly, she bit her tongue.

Audrey and Sonya were staring at her as if she'd grown another head.

'Christine, is everything all right?'

That was Audrey, her tone wary but her eyes soft with genuine affection, and for a moment Christine wasn't sure whether to laugh, cry or throw something … or even better, to let forth a flood of acid expletive that twisted around the burning longing for a drink. That one glass of vodka seemed so long ago and the strain of trying not to think about it, of battling the guilt for even wanting it, was becoming too much.

She turned to go back to her own room, her lips tight, and closed the door hard. Through it she could hear the concerned murmurs coming from the other two, and once again a darkness coursed through her, a resentment that they cared enough to refrain from the outright condemnation she felt she so deserved.

The clock's ticking was loud in the quiet room and she forced herself to inhale deeply, striving for calm.

_Who do you think you're fooling anyhow?_ she thought bitterly as she resumed her seat behind the big desk and waited for the bell to go. _Some Head you are, you can barely control yourself let alone anyone else…_

* * *

**Mrs Mulgrew's room, 11.50am**

* * *

'Sit here, Lulu,' Imogen urged, drawing the new girl down beside her. They were in the second row, nearer to the teacher than Louisa would have preferred, but she sank into the seat Imogen had indicated without a murmur.

Imogen looked relieved and leaned in. 'Hey, thanks for not making a fuss. Dynasty doesn't like sitting this close.' The glance she sent over her shoulder to where the Head Girl sat—next to Rhiannon—was wistful, and Louisa had to struggle to hide a smirk. She didn't want to drive Imogen back into Dynasty's arms.

'It's OK,' she signed. 'I know it's easier for you to lipread here.'

'It's much better,' Imogen signed back as Mrs Mulgrew began speaking. 'Even Chris—I mean, _the Head_—needs to be reminded sometimes.'

'Imogen,' Mrs Mulgrew said sharply at that point, and Louisa saw the other girl give a guilty start. 'Want to share that with the rest of the class?'

Louisa saw Imogen's usually pale skin flush pink as she shook her head.

Mrs Mulgrew's gaze rested on Louisa for a moment, but she aimed her remarks at Imogen. 'I suggest you try to concentrate now and leave the chatting for later, h'mm?'

'Sorry,' Imogen said meekly and Mrs Mulgrew resumed her whistle-stop tour through _Tess of the d'Ubervilles_.

Louisa was already more familiar with Hardy's novel than she wished to be, so she focused on surreptitiously studying Imogen. The other's expression was intent, her eyes following her mother-in-law's every movement, and Louisa began to wonder if she'd hit on the right person. Her sympathy for Imogen was genuine enough, given that she'd spent her life in the shadow of deafness, but Imogen's attraction for Louisa at this point largely started and finished with her relationship to the Head—and now she was doubting whether Imogen could (or would) give her the dirt she needed.

_Well_, she thought as Mrs Mulgrew instructed them to begin working in pairs, _there was only one way to find out. _

'Isn't this awfully awkward?' she murmured. 'Having your mother-in-law teaching you? I mean, it's bad enough that she's Head—' but Imogen shrugged.

'She taught us before she was anything else,' she said absently, frowning as she rifled through her book. 'She's one of the best teachers in the school. Always was, even when—' she caught herself and broke off, glancing furtively at Louisa as though hoping the other girl had not noticed the near-slip.

_Fat chance_, Louisa thought scornfully.

'Go on,' she urged. 'You can't stop there. Even when what?'

'Let's just do this, shall we?' Imogen suggested. She began to chew on her pen. 'So what do you think, how would you describe Tess's relationship with Angel?'

'Who cares, he's a hopeless weed,' Louisa remarked caustically and Imogen grinned.

'He _so_ is.' She began to nibble her pen thoughtfully, examining the front cover of her text. 'Weird book to choose.'

Louisa glanced at her quickly. 'What do you mean?'

Imogen was staring at her mother-in-law. 'It's just… This is a book about rape, isn't it?'

Taken aback, Louisa gave a single nod. 'And?'

Imogen's eyes went round. 'You don't know? I thought one of those gossips in Grantly House would've told you everything—'

'I know about Barry, naturally. D'you mean there's _more_?' Louisa interrupted.

Imogen looked uncomfortable. 'Oh. Then I probably shouldn't say.'

'Oh, come on, you can't leave it there,' Louisa coaxed. 'Besides, it sounds like everyone knows, whatever it is.'

The other girl sighed. 'Guess that's true. Well, rape, it's um, it's happened to two people in this room.' She began to play with her pen before saying in a rush, 'One of them's Dynasty, and—and then there was Barry. That's why she's a bit off at the minute, just cut her some slack, yeah?'

Now it was Louisa's turn to go wide-eyed, sincerity mixing with glee. 'Seriously? And Mrs Mulgrew knows, doesn't she, and she still chose this text? That's horrible!'

'What's horrible?' Mrs Mulgrew herself asked, appearing beside them with the startling suddenness of a genie materialising from a bottle. 'This doesn't sound like you're discussing _Tess_, girls.' The look she sent them turned Imogen pink once more, but Louisa remained her usual serene self.

'I promise, we're staying on-task,' she said, and the corner of the Head's mouth twitched; Louisa didn't know whether it meant she was amused, annoyed, or both.

'That's good to know, Miss Fox. I hope you meant it, because the time for discussion's over. Right everyone!' she called, her tone changing as she turned to face the class, 'eyes to the front. Jack, we'll start with you. What have you and Ryan come up with—and let's have _sensible_ answers, people!'

Louisa zoned out during the discussion and was recalled to attention only when Mrs Mulgrew announced that she had the results of the election to hand. Next to her, Imogen stiffened, leaning forward.

'I appreciate that this has been difficult for everyone,' Mrs Mulgrew was saying, 'but especially for you lot—and Dynasty most of all.' Louisa was aware of Imogen turning to seek out her friend, and equally aware of her downcast expression when she resumed her proper position. Dynasty mustn't have responded; more fool her. 'Right, then. I wouldn't say the result is unanimous, but it's … pretty clear. Kevin, you're now our Head Boy.' The class gave a subdued ripple of applause. 'And that does, of course, leave an unfilled slot for Deputy Head Boy: Connor, that's you, son.'

The warmth in Mrs Mulgrew's voice as she ended made Louisa give an inner smirk. Better and better. She hadn't got as much dirt as she'd have liked, but she thought it would be enough for Gramps, considering. She'd phone as soon as the bell went, the sooner he knew, the better. Knowledge, he was always saying, was power.

'Come on, boys, come and get your badges,' Mrs Mulgrew was urging. 'The bell's about to go. Connor, have you got your prefect badge with you? I'll need to take it back when I give you this.' The Head held up a small metallic shield that glinted in the light and Louisa could see that Imogen was beaming with pride as she reached out to squeeze her husband's hand when he passed her on his way to his mother's desk.

'Um, I forgot my badge,' Connor mumbled, but Louisa—who had exceptionally good hearing—heard. 'Can I give it to you later?'

'As long as you do, son,' Mrs Mulgrew responded in a like murmur with a light touch on Connor's shoulder. 'Well done. I'm proud of you, you deserve this.'

'Don't, Mum, not here.' Connor did not sound especially delighted by his promotion, Louisa thought. He returned to his own seat, his eyes seeking out Imogen's as he went.

And in the meantime, the new Head Boy had not moved.

'Kevin?' Mrs Mulgrew prompted. 'What are you waiting for?'

The class went dead quiet.

'Dynasty?' Louisa heard Kevin say. 'Dynasty, is this OK with you? I'll only take it if—'

A chair crashed, metal ringing off wood. 'Then you'll be waitin' a long time, boyo.' Dynasty's accent was harder than ever. 'It's bad enough you've taken Barry's place at home with me mum, are you tryin' to steal it at school as well?'

'Dyn—' Kevin tried just as Mrs Mulgrew put in a quick, 'Everyone else can go. Yes, Connor and Imogen, that includes you!'

Louisa obeyed reluctantly, seeking out Dynasty and Kevin in turn as she left the room. Dynasty was rigid, making no effort to reset her overturned chair, and Kevin was still seated, his entire body leaning in her direction.

'Come on!' Imogen urged, tugging Louisa along. 'We don't need to be here for this—Connor! Connor, wait!' and she detached herself from Louisa and went after her husband.

Gradually, the others melted away, only too happy to take advantage of an early release from a lesson. Louisa bent down and began to play with the shoelaces of the designer brogues which had been _de rigeur_ at her last school, and strained to hear through the classroom door.

It was futile. Either the three within were speaking too quietly, or they were too far from the door for even Louisa's excellent hearing. She grimaced and rose to her feet, her shoulders automatically resuming the straight bearing she'd acquired from hours and hours on horseback. Through the classroom window she could see Kevin standing awkwardly to one side while Dynasty lambasted him—her posture made it crystal clear what she was doing—and Louisa leaned closer, her nose almost touching the glass.

'Louisa, what are you doing?'

The voice was so unexpected that she jumped violently, her heart thumping as she wheeled to face the speaker.

'Miss Spark,' she squeaked.

'Come here.' The new teacher grabbed her wrist and pulled her away from Mrs Mulgrew's door to the corridor that lead to the next flight of stairs and gave her a little shake. 'What did you think you were doing, with your nose to Mrs Mulgrew's door like that?'

Louisa threw her off. 'What d'you think?'

'Louisa.' Miss Spark gave her the gently pitying look that the girl had always hated. 'You need to be careful, you don't want to get into trouble at once, do you?'

Louisa's mouth opened as she prepared to let rip, but something in Miss Spark's expression as she twisted the ring on her left hand made her pause. 'No.'

'Good. Now, the bell hasn't gone yet, has it? You're jolly lucky it was me who found you and someone else, h'mm?' The teacher gave a tinkling laugh. 'Run off and … well, at least look like you're doing something useful.'

Louisa forced a mockery of a sweet smile and reminded herself why she was doing this; of the glint of the Head Girl girl badge that was hers and hers alone. 'Yes, Miss Spark,' she cooed.

The older woman gave her a patronisingly maternal squeeze of the shoulder. 'See you later, Lulu! Remember, if you can't be good, be careful!'

_Like you, Auntie Sue?_ Louisa thought as she moved away, intent on finding a quiet corner to place her call. _You wouldn't know careful if it bit you on the arse!_

* * *

**Head's Office, 12.40pm**

* * *

Christine leaned back in her chair with her eyes closed as she tried to pull herself together after the scene in her classroom. Dynasty's reaction to Kevin's appointment had been … almost virulent, the Head remembered. The Head Girl had hurled accusations at Kevin whilst the poor lad curled up like a threatened hedgehog and waited for her to run down. She had, eventually, but instead of dissolving into tears she'd turned on her heel and stalked out of the classroom, leaving Christine with a distraught Kevin on her hands. It had taken ten minutes of hard talking to convince him to wait; to not simply hand in his resignation immediately… eventually she'd resorted to phoning Connor and had rarely been so relieved to see her son and daughter-in-law when they returned in answer to her call for help. Imogen had promised to go after Dynasty while Connor had taken Kevin off, leaving his mother to wish that she could seek Tom out for a rant (and perhaps something more, but they couldn't, not in school hours). She'd returned to her office, ostensibly for lunch, but the sight of the squashed sandwiches (they usually were squashed by the time she got to them) was anything but appealing. Vodka, now, that would hit the spot—

A timid tap at the door made her start and she had to force herself to call a calm, 'Come in!'

Sonya peeped around, her eyes like saucers. 'Christine, there's just been a call from the council—'

'And?' Christine prompted as her heart skipped a sickening beat.

Sonya gulped. 'It was Mr Bain's secretary. He's just caught up after 'is Florida trip an' 'e's not 'appy, she says. He's coming to see you at two thirty.'

'Can't he change it?' Christine asked quietly. 'I'm supposed to be teaching Year 7 and he surely he understands how shorthanded we are—' but Sonya was shaking her head.

'Adamant, she was.'

Christine gave a forlorn laugh as she looked around her office. 'Oh, well. It was nice while it lasted.' Even Sonya could not miss the irony, and Christine saw her wince.

'It might not be—_that_,' the secretary said, seemingly gaining the courage to enter the Head's office properly. 'It might just be a rap on t'knuckles. Barry wasn't your fault, Christine.'

Christine clasped her hands tightly on her desk, so tightly that her nails dug into her knuckles. 'Maybe, maybe not, but we both know the writing was on the wall as soon as Barry died.' She pushed herself to her feet. 'I … Would you be a star and get me a box for my stuff?' Sonya looked as though she was going to protest, but Christine made a negating movement with a finger, adding a soft, 'If you don't mind, I think I'd rather jump before I'm pushed.'

Sonya sighed.

'Sure, boss, I'll see to it, don't you worry.'

The acquiescence told Christine all she needed to know and she dipped her head so that the secretary could not see the treacherous tears. She managed to swallow the hard lump in her throat; there was one thing that needed to be said and she needed to say it now. Something told her she'd be in no fit state to do so later.

'Sonya?'

The younger woman turned with a questioning look.

'I know I can be a bitch, the boss from hell, eh?' Sonya opened her mouth, but Christine barrelled on. 'I just wanted to say … thanks. I'm just some jumped-up alkie English teacher and the fact I've been able to do this job at all … well, it's mainly been down to you and Tom. I owe you.'

She could hardly get the words out and Sonya's eyes glistened as their gazes met across Christine's desk.

'It were nothin', me love. Just remember, no matter what, you're still me boss. All you gotta do is say the word. You need anythin', you say an' I'll be there, an' so will all the kids and teachers of this school, I swear.'

It was a clear declaration of loyalty, but just then it was no comfort at all.

* * *

_Hey, anyone else having trouble with the dividing lines in editing? It seems to show ok in the final thing, but it's a bit weird. So... what did you think? How many people saw that coming? _

_TBC!_


	4. Episode 1-4

_Hey! Thanks a million million (isn't that a trillion?) to **Jessiekat**, **Paisley** and **chantelucy** for their reviews. Please, please, keep those reviews coming. They fuelled me through the last story and they'll keep me going through this one, but I really do need your comments, ideas, feedback etc. _

_More Sue—and a twist that I don't think is much of a twist at all. Just remember, this is not entirely the same universe as the TV show—and not just 'cos Tom's still alive. :)_

* * *

**Staffroom, 1.05pm**

* * *

'Sonya. _Sonya_!'

Lost in deep and gloomy thought, Sonya came back to herself only when someone's hand closed over her wrist. Blinking dazedly, she realised it was Audrey.

'Sorry, I was a world of me own there. What did you say?'

Audrey was looking worried. 'Never mind, it wasn't important. What's wrong? Has something happened? You've hardly moved since you came in, even your tea's untouched!'

The secretary shifted awkwardly on her seat. 'Christine's clearin' her desk,' she blurted and silence fell like a stone, causing Sonya's cheeks to flame. 'That Mr Bain's stuck-up secy phoned to say 'e was comin' to see 'er at half two and that was it, she wanted me to get 'er some boxes.'

'Did you?' Audrey asked gently.

'I couldn't not!' Sonya wailed. 'She said she didn't wanna be pushed, an me, silly cow that I am, I couldn't find the words to argue, could I. 'Cos I couldn't 'elp thinkin' she was right. That snooty bitch from the council didn't ask us when it'd suit or anythin', she just phoned an' started givin' orders like she was our boss or sommat—'

'Isn't she?' the new teacher, Sue her name was, asked. Her careful enunciation cut across the ripple of surprise resulting from Sonya's revelation. 'Waterloo Road's a council school, doesn't that mean we need to do what they say?'

The older teachers said nothing with such expressiveness that Sue's fair skin flushed with embarrassment. At any other time Sonya might have felt sorry for her, but not just then.

She nodded emphatically as Nikki Boston said, 'It doesn't quite work that way, Miss Spark. They hold the purse strings so yes, they have some power, but they don't hold absolutely sway. Otherwise what would be the point of having a head teacher? A Head isn't just an administrator.'

'Well, perhaps it's a good thing,' Sue said brightly, neatly crossing her ankles. Her shoes, Sonya noted, were a gleaming patent red. _Like blood_ flashed through her mind and her stomach flipped, remembering Barry. 'Mrs Mulgrew's not a _proper_ head teacher is she, I mean she hasn't got a headship qualification and surely a school like this needs someone with all the right letters after their name.'

'_Bollocks_,' George Windsor snarled, and Sonya could have kissed him. 'What a school like this'—George's voice went positively falsetto as he quoted Sue—'needs is someone with actual real life experience, not some PC crap learned from books. Christine might not have some fancy-pants letters but she's not exactly short on life and even our idiotic council can see that, I'm sure.' The staff broke into applause and George's eyebrows rocketed towards his hairline.

But Sue did not seem flustered. She gave a small shake of the head.

'But see, that's what I mean,' she argued and Sonya couldn't help gaping at the young woman's self-confidence. 'It's not just about the letters and life and all that, it's about being able to bond with the kids, understand where they're coming from, really be relevant to them. Wouldn't someone young and, oh I don't know, someone _cool_, be better? I mean, Mrs Mulgrew's no spring chicken, is she?'

'She's hardly on the verge of collecting her pension either,' Audrey put in drily at that point, her eyes round behind her spectacles. 'In any case, she's got a teenage son. I think she gets enough exposure to today's kids to be relevant, if that's what's worrying you.'

'_And_ she's your boss until the council say otherwise,' Nikki added, biting into her apple with an audible crunch. 'Which hasn't happened yet. While _you_, Miss Spark, are simply an NQT who's on probation. Take my advice and zip it. Remember who'll be signing those forms at the end of the year.'

Sue smirked and Sonya found she'd had enough.

'Come on then, just spit it out! You know something, it's been written all over you since you came in this morning.' Sue raised an eyebrow and Sonya glared. 'Are you a spy? Is that it? Are you spyin' for the council?'

Sue deliberately recrossed her ankles. 'How absurd. How can little old me be a spy, I'm just an NQT like Miss Boston said.'

'_Not_ just any NQT,' a male voice said and Sonya turned to see Tom Clarkson standing at the door between the staffroom and the offices. 'Isn't that right, Miss Spark?' He closed the door behind him with a definite thud and Sonya winced, thinking of Christine only a room away. 'You got the job for two reasons: one, we were desperate and two, the council made it sound like you were God's gift to teaching. That doesn't tally with what the kids have told me this morning, which leaves me wondering why Bain and company were so eager to land you on us.' He drew nearer and Sonya actually tensed. She'd never been afraid of Tom before, but just then he radiated tightly coiled anger. 'Are you part of some campaign to undermine Christine? Because if you are—'

'I don't need to undermine her, she managed that all by herself!' Sue hissed. 'Let's see, shall we? She's an alcoholic who can't keep her own son safe, a head teacher who gets one of her pupils killed, who allows her son and his cronies to rule the school, who's having a _totally_ inappropriate relationship with her deputy head because, let's be honest, that's why you're defending her. She's your _mistress_!'

Silence once again, so profound that Sonya was sure she could hear everyone breathing. It was broken almost at once by the rhythmic resumption of Audrey's knitting needles and Nikki's 'Not before bloody time!'

Audrey was smiling. 'When did this happen, Tom? Over Christmas?'

Her question provoked a torrent to which Tom tried to respond, but they were cut off by Sue's shrill 'Don't you _care_?'

'Why should we?' George barked, shooting daggers at Sue over the top of the _Times Ed_. 'Provided they do their jobs and don't annoy us more than they can possibly help, what they do in his or her or indeed their bed is no-one's business but their own, and frankly, I'd prefer not to think about it.'

'Likewise, mate, likewise,' Tom assured him. His tone was genial but Sonya could see that his eyes were hard when they returned to Sue. 'See? Yeah, our staff does care about me and Christine, but not in the way you think. Sure, we know what the rules say, but Waterloo Road isn't just any school and sometimes the rules are made to broken—'

'Really? Well, let's see what Dad has to say about that, shall we?'

'_Dad_?' Sonya squeaked.

Tom went an odd shade of greenish-grey. 'Dad? Who? Who's your dad?'

Sue got to her feet, lips quirked, and shifted her leather teaching satchel on her shoulder. 'Didn't I say? Silly me. Robert Bain. Yes, the Director of Education, he's my dad and when he hears all I've got to say you and your precious Christine are _finished_! This school deserves better and better is what it'll get!'

The door slammed as she left, and Tom sat down hard on the arm of Sonya's chair, the one nearest the door. 'Shit.'

She glanced up at him. 'Yeah, an' you gotta go to Christine and warn her! She needs to know before that pillock gets here!'

'She's right.' Audrey leaned forward, her eyes flicking towards the clock. 'It's after half one, Bain's coming at half two, didn't you say, Sonya?'

Sonya nodded dumbly.

'So don't waste time, Tom!' Audrey urged. 'Christine needs to know and she needs to know _now_—'

Christine herself interrupted. She must have entered so softly that even Sonya, even Tom, did not realise.

'What? What do I need to know? It must be important if all the shouting is anything to go by.'

Sonya glanced up and her heart clenched at the sight of the familiar wry twist of her boss's lips. She put a hand on Tom's arm.

'Tell her.'

He nodded, squeezing Sonya's shoulder as he rose. 'C'mon,' he said, putting an arm around Christine. Sonya could hear her startled gasp. 'No, don't worry. I'll explain. C'mon. This is better done in private.'

Sonya had never considered herself as either imaginative or superstitious, but she couldn't help thinking that the door closing after them resembled a tolling bell sounding the end of an era.

* * *

**Head's Office, 1.30pm**

* * *

'Well?' Christine demanded as Tom kicked her office door shut behind them. 'What do you need to tell me?'

Tom guided her to the sofa and dropped into it, grabbing her hand and dragging her down beside him. 'It's that little cat you've hired,' he told her grimly. 'Sue Spark. She's Bain's daughter.'

'Robert Bain?'

'Yup.' Tom stared moodily into the middle distance. 'And she's made it clear she's got it in for you, God knows why.'

'She's Bain's _daughter_?' Christine sounded stunned. 'But _how_?'

'She must've used her mum's maiden name or something. Leaves a sour taste, doesn't it? I can't help wondering if this has been planned.'

'Since last term, you mean? I interviewed her… let's see, I think it was just after we got Connor and Kacey back. You'd gone on those training days, remember, and we agreed that I'd do the interviews.'

'And she was the only person to show?'

He could feel her stiffen beside him. 'Yeah. Why, don't you believe me?'

'Don't be daft, 'course I do. It's just odd, don't you think? We advertised in all the usual places, there should've been at least a few applicants.'

Christine stared at him. 'You're right, that is odd. I should've thought of it myself but my head was still in a whirl… God. D'you mean that's _another_ mistake? I'm starting to think that it's a good thing I'm being kicked out.'

For the first time Tom paid attention to their surroundings, and the sight chilled him. Almost all signs of occupancy had gone; the room was barren and bland, a blank template devoid of all personality apart from two tiny defiant markers: the pot plant on top of filing cabinet, the one he knew Nikki had given Christine just after her accession to the headship, and the single photo on the desk. He didn't need to look at it to know what it was; an old photo of Christine and Connor from a holiday in the sun some years ago, during one of her rare periods of sobriety.

The touch of her hand on his roused him and he glanced at her, surprised to see that she was smiling—and he found himself smiling back.

'What?'

Her hand went to his cheek, cradling it. 'Soon this'll be yours,' she murmured, leaning in to kiss him. 'All of it. The big office, the cushy chair… I don't mind, Tom, I swear. You'll be better at it than I ever could be, you're the best thing in this place.' She kissed him again and he was too surprised to say anything. 'Just promise not to fire me? Let me go back to my classroom and—' Unable to listen to more, he put a hand over her mouth.

'I don't want it,' he said harshly. 'That chair's yours, you've earned it. Chris, you mustn't let them sack you. Not over Barry—or—or anything else that little bitch has come up with.'

Christine went very still. 'What's she been saying?'

Tom ran his hands up his face and through his hair. 'Someone's been talking. She was chucking all sorts of stuff about, none of it major but… it could be twisted. Like you and me. Like your kids being senior prefects. Your alcoholism… how'd she get hold of that? I thought the council didn't know.'

'They didn't. Michael promised me they didn't.' Christine's colour had faded, he saw, her features going pinched. 'But it's common knowledge in school, isn't it? All it'd take would be a single comment—' She dropped her face in her hands and continued in muffled tones he had to strain to hear. 'God, Tom. What if they've heard about the day Joe came back? I brought alcohol into school, I was _drunk_ in school, either one alone is grounds for dismissal… even then Sian Diamond said I wasn't fired because I'd been sleeping with Michael.' She gave a strangled laugh. 'It sounds so sordid out loud. If you didn't know about—about Joe, about the rape.'

Tom took her hands in his. 'That's common knowledge now too,' he reminded her, and she whitened further, twitching out of his hold and getting to her feet.

'That's it then,' she said blankly, going to lift the photo from her desk and staring at it as if she'd never seen it before. 'I'm done, aren't I? They're not just gonna demote me, they'll fire me altogether, if they had their doubts before—'

'Hey. Hey!' He went to her and put his hands on her shoulders. 'You're getting ahead of yourself, love. They can demote you but they can't fire you, not on the basis of hearsay. Like you said, if worst comes to worst I'm next in line. You're safe with me, Christine.'

Her eyes were anxious, searching his. 'Promise?'

She sounded almost childlike and his heart turned over as he realised her vulnerability anew. 'Promise,' he whispered, placing his forehead on hers. 'No matter what happens here, I'm not going anywhere.'

They stood in a close embrace until the bell went, Tom's jaw rigid with repressed fury and frustration where it rested against Christine's hair.

* * *

**Head's Office, 2.20pm**

* * *

Christine had been staring sightlessly at her computer for a full five minutes when she made her decision, closing the laptop shut with a decisive click. In less than ten minutes she was due with Year 7. Robert Bain was also due then, but she had no desire to sit waiting for him, her heart threatening to stop with every sound that reached her from Sonya's office beyond. She was a teacher first, last, and always, and her primary duty was to her pupils. When Mr Bain arrived he would find her where she belonged—in her classroom. She'd played the victim long enough; this time she would make him come to her. If he wanted to demote her—fire her, even—he would do so on her terms and not his.

She grabbed her teaching bag and swept past Sonya, ignoring the younger woman's calls, her heels clipping loudly as she made her way through the deserted corridors to her classroom. It was empty just now she knew; all to the good, it would give her time to set up a game of hangman for the children. They were always more likely to settle to a lesson after a few minutes of fun.

Sure enough, the Year 7s were delighted to find themselves confronted with a game, settling into their seats in record time. Her mouth twisting in something that was not quite a smile, she called them into quiet.

'You know how this works,' she said briskly, steadied by the comforting familiarity of this room, of the children sitting in intent rows before her. 'Anyone want to give me a vowel?'

A hand shot up, belonging to a child who reminded Christine of Hermione Granger from the _Harry Potter_ books. She nodded.

'E,' the girl said importantly.

Christine smiled properly. 'Try again.'

'But it's a vowel!'

'Yes, but it's not in my word. Anyone else?'

Another hand went up, more hesitantly this time. 'Y?'

'H'mmm,' Christine mused whilst her Hermione-clone cried, 'That's not a vowel, miss!'

Christine glanced at her. 'True. But it is in my word, so—' She turned and wrote it in the appropriate blank with a flourish. 'Next!'

A positive forest of hands went up that time and she laughed, feeling more herself than she'd done all day. Their enthusiasm made quick work of her game and before long nearly half the word was done: C, N, S, P, R, C, and Y.

Someone rapped sharply on the door and the children quietened. Christine pursed her lips and gave a brief nod, her eyebrows rising into her hair when her visitor proved to be Dynasty Barry instead of the half-expected Sonya.

'Dynasty,' she greeted as the Head Girl made her way to the desk. 'What can I do for you?'

'Sonya sent me,' the girl said, her voice lowering. 'Mr Bain's here.'

Christine bit into her lip. 'I see. Thanks, Dynasty. Tell Sonya I'm coming.'

'Don't you want me to stay with thes'uns?'

Christine looked at the young woman, her throat tightening as she remembered the last time Dynasty had made such an offer. Only a few months ago and yet… even then, even in the aftermath of rape, Dynasty Barry had retained an essential innocence and youthfulness. Now she looked groomed and weary and wary, older than her years.

_Like me_, Christine thought bitterly. She had tried to protect Dynasty from that and she had failed.

'Miss?' Dynasty prompted softly and the Head realised she was wool-gathering, the Year 7s watching her every move with avid curiosity.

She forced a laugh, ignoring the concern on Dynasty's expression. 'That's a great idea. We're playing hangman, if you want to take over.'

Dynasty's eyes went from the board to Christine and back. 'Conspiracy?' she mouthed, her gaze more knowing than it should be.

Christine gave a single brief nod, her lips pressing thin.

Turning so that the kids could not see, Dynasty reached across to squeeze Christine's arm. 'It don't matter what 'e says,' she whispered. 'Let 'im do what 'e wants. You're our Head, you always will be.'

Christine dipped her head, unbearably touched. 'I—thanks.' She looked at the clock; it was now nearly twenty to three and her visitor must be fuming. 'I'd better go.'

Dynasty squeezed her arm again and as Christine made her way to the door she heard her protégée say, 'Right then! Which one of you boffins can tell us what the answer is when it's starin' you right in yer wee faces?'

Christine was still smiling when she breezed into the office, past Sonya, past a startled Robert Bain—until she came face to face with the man seated behind her desk, looking as though he had every right to be there.

He was not Tom.

He was Simon Lowsley.

* * *

_So... the question is, Nasty Simon or Nice S9 Simon? Or Simon-with-a-twist? _

_TBC!_


	5. Episode 2-1

_Apologies for the delay! I've been ill so that's thrown things out of whack. However, here's the next bit. Thanks are due to: _**Guest, Jessiekat89, Paisley, gem, Wall With A Fez, **_and_** chantelucy**_. Regarding the Nice/Nasty Simon query, opinion's so divided there's no way I can keep everyone happy! Sue, though... *g*_

_Enjoy this next bit!_

* * *

**Mulgrew Household: Monday, 6.30am**

* * *

Like Sleeping Beauty, Christine was wakened by a kiss. Unlike that fairytale princess, she opened her eyes to find her 'prince' looking disturbed and her mouth—already dry—turned arid as she realised the probable cause.

She tried a smile. 'Morning.'

Tom did not return it. 'Morning.' He looked as if he wanted to say more and had thought the better of it; one finger went to trace the collar of her nightshirt.

She pressed her lips together to moisten them. 'It's OK. You can say it. What you're thinking.'

A beat.

'You've been drinking.' It was not an accusation, which was just as well: simply a calm statement of fact.

Christine swallowed. 'It—it was just one glass,' she murmured, rolling on her side so that she need not look at him. 'At three in the morning when I couldn't sleep.'

'Vodka?' A pause, then a soft 'Just one?'

She couldn't blame him for being sceptical, she supposed, but she stiffened all the same. 'Yeah.'

'Where's the bottle?'

'Under the kitchen sink.' She turned to face him, wanting complete honesty between them. 'I did Connor's trick, but the other way round.' Her lips twisted in a mockery of a smile. 'I put the vodka in an empty water bottle and removed the label. Shoved it in next to the bleach, who'd know?'

Tom's eyes searched her face, and she forced herself to endure it. Her body tensed as she waited the inevitable recriminations.

'Will you hate me if I throw it out?' he asked.

Tears came to her eyes and she shook her head wordlessly as her throat closed. After all, this was why she'd confessed, wasn't it?

They lay in silence, each examining the other, and eventually Christine managed, 'Do you hate me for drinking it?'

She was surprised when he barked out a half-laugh. 'God, no.' A sigh so deep that it lifted the strands of her hair from the pillow, the light catching tendrils of new silver amidst the bleached gold. 'Truth is, if I'd known about it I'd probably have taken some myself. Anything to stop the nightmares, eh?'

'You should have said,' she whispered. 'I knew you were having trouble, I kept waking and finding myself alone—'

'Me too,' he interrupted. 'I wanted to find you but didn't want to intrude—or fall over my own feet and wake the house,' he added wryly. 'Can't you imagine trying to explain _that_ to the kids?'

Christine snorted, a sound that was half laugh and half aborted sob. 'Connor'd never forgive us.'

'He'd get over it,' Tom said heartlessly. 'Hey,' he continued in a different tone, 'are you coming in today?'

Christine bit her lip. 'Have to, don't I? Can't have Dynasty barrelling in like she did the other day.'

Tom grinned. 'She's a brave girl.'

'A little _too_ brave sometimes!'

Tom pulled her to him as he flipped onto his back. 'Tell it again.'

She thumped him. 'I've already told you twice!'

'So I like hearing it. Tell it again.'

* * *

**Mulgrew Household: Friday, 12.30pm**

* * *

Christine was curled up in solitary splendour in the middle of her kingsized double bed, missing Tom and the kids acutely and wishing the clock would hurry up and strike three-fifteen. She was nursing a strong cup of tea, but it wasn't enough… and she was too afraid to move from the sanctuary her room had become. If she went down to the kitchen she'd be near the cupboard under the sink and what lurked there. A single drink at three in the morning to help her sleep was one thing; drinking alone mid-afternoon was something else. She would not go there, not again. Not when it had taken everything she had to resist the temptation the day of her deposition. She was strong. She'd manage—

'Christine!'

The call made her jump, spilling hot tea over her fingers. She swore under her breath and remained where she was, hoping her visitor would go away.

Fat chance. It was a visitor with a key.

'Christine! Where are yer? I know yer there, Tom said so.'

She groaned, recognising the voice. Resigned, she put her half-empty cup on the bedside table and cleared her rusty throat. 'In here.'

Dynasty Barry did not simply enter the room. She exploded into it, kicking the door shut behind her and glaring at her erstwhile headmistress, her hands going to her hips.

'What d'you think this is? You sittin' up 'ere like this when we need yer at school! What sorta example is that to set, eh?'

Thoroughly taken aback, Christine could only gape while Dynasty continued.

'Our exams is coming up, the first ones that really count, an' we need yer for English if nothin' else. That Lowsley's too busy playin' the Big Man in yer office to actually _teach_. Not that we'd have anythin' to do with 'im if he tried,' she added contemptuously. 'He's a broken reed, 'im, totally under 'is girlfriend's thumb.'

'_Girlfriend_?' Christine gasped.

Dynasty plumped down on the bed—as if for a girly chat, the older woman thought in stunned bemusement. 'Yep. Didn't the others tell yer? Turns out him an' Miss Not-Very-Bright-Spark are an item. Engaged, apparently.' Dynasty winked, looking more like herself than she had done since Barry's death. 'Just shows, don't it?'

'Oh,' Christine said blankly. '_Oh_. And Sue's Robert Bain's _daughter_—' She ran out of breath at the sheer inwardness of the whole episode. 'Tom was right, this was planned!'

'You bet it was. Bain kickin' you out, that was dead wrong. Everyone knows it, the school's ragin'. Half of 'em are refusin' to come in. They're sayin' that if the Head—that's _you_, in case you've forgotten—can't be bothered to come in, why should they? So y'see, it don't matter what them council nutjobs do. You're still our Head, no matter what it says on that sign.'

Christine winced. That was unexpected. 'It's been changed already?'

'Was changed the next day,' Dynasty informed her grimly. 'They must've had it all done, just waitin' for their chance, like.'

'The little—' She broke off the expletive that wanted to come, and the corner of Dynasty's mouth lifted.

'You don't 'ave to stop cos of me. I've 'eard worse. Said it, too.'

'Yes, but I'm supposed to know better,' Christine told her ruefully. She sighed. 'You think—no, I mustn't ask,' she murmured, mainly to herself. 'Not appropriate.'

'Bollocks. This is _me_.' Dynasty reached over to enclose Christine's wrist in her slim fingers. ''Cos, well, yer not just me teacher now, are yer?'

Now it was Christine's turn to quirk her lips. 'No?'

'No, more like …' Dynasty looked unwontedly shy. 'Well, _family_, innit? 'Cos I can't say mates, you're still me teacher, but it's like you've become an auntie or sommat.' She turned from shy to wistful. 'I've never 'ad an auntie. Mum's family are in London and Dad's—_pffft_.'

'Dynasty—'

'It's OK,' the girl interrupted, her blue eyes very deep. 'I know yer can't say it.' She grinned, a hint of the old mischievous Dynasty returning. 'You can pay us back by comin' to school next week. Please?'

Christine sighed, feeling as if she'd been turned upside down and thoroughly shaken about. She closed her eyes and thought about it… and slowly it dawned on her that on some level she _wanted_ to return to school. She could return to her classroom, she realised, she'd be free from the anxieties and restraints of the Headship with only her department accounts to worry about… Her spirits began to rise.

She shuffled over to sit by Dynasty, nudging her on the shoulder.

'So you want me back, h'mmm?'

Dynasty gave a decisive nod.

'Nagging you about essays and coursework and exams?'

'Well…'

Christine laughed out loud. It sounded foreign even to her own ears, but it felt good. 'God, your face. Not so sure now, are you?'

'I'm sure.' The bright look faded from the girl's expression. 'Can't do it without yer, miss, an' Kace an' me mam, they'd be happier with you in school too.'

'OK.' She pushed herself to her feet, grimacing as she caught sight of her reflection in the long mirror opposite: in old sweats, her hair in a lopsided short pony-tail, devoid of makeup… she looked anything but professional. Thank God it was Dynasty, who'd seen it all before by virtue of her extended stay at the Mulgrews' in the run-up to the trial. 'So what are you missing now?'

Dynasty was looking more sheepish by the second. 'History.'

'Ah. Miss McFall's not going to like that.'

The girl's chin came up. 'She won't care when she knows.'

Christine sent her an amused glance. 'Either that means you're gonna tell her, _or_ this is your way of asking for a note.'

Dynasty smirked. '_Or_… she already knows. Connor and Imogen know where I am.'

Christine's eyebrows went up. 'And they didn't join you?'

'Too easy for you to ignore,' Dynasty said simply. ''Cos they're your kids, right? We thought it'd be better comin' from me.'

'Conspiracy, fiddlesticks,' Christine muttered, remembering the word she'd given the Year 7s at the beginning of the week. She hadn't expected it to acquire such meaning. 'Well… you'd better go,' she said in her normal tone, placing a firm hand on Dynasty's shoulder and guiding her down the stairs and towards the door. 'Audrey'll only give you so much rope.'

Dynasty turned to look at her. 'But you'll be back on Monday?' she pleaded.

Christine nodded, touched when the girl's face lit up.

'Seriously? You promise?'

'I promise. Now _go_—before you get me into more trouble!'

A quick hug, and Dynasty was off.

Christine watched her go until a rush of emotion made her call, 'Dyn!'

The younger woman turned.

'For what it's worth… I think of you as family too.'

Dynasty's beam was visible ten metres away. 'Great… Auntie Chris!'

Christine no longer tried to hide her smile as she gestured firmly in the direction of the school. 'Get going, young lady. Now!'

Her smile lingered as she closed the door and found herself able for the first time that week to think about the future.

* * *

**Waterloo Road Car Park: Monday, 8.15am**

* * *

'Have you remembered the English PGCE student is starting today?'

'Yup,' Tom answered as they drove along the Greenock coast. 'She's timetabled and all.'

'What about the new prefect?'

He glanced at Christine out of the corner of his eye. She had extracted her diary from her teaching bag and was flipping through it.

'Already sorted,' he answered. 'Simon's picked Archie Wong.'

'Archie? But he's only Year 11!'

'That's why,' Tom explained. 'The plan is that Year 12 drop their prefectships in September to allow them to concentrate on their exams, and if Archie's already had some experience he'll allow next year's lot to hit the ground running. Archie's a good kid, he won't take advantage of it.' There was a long silence and Tom glanced towards Christine, anxious lest she thought him disloyal. 'Chris—'

She gave him a bright smile that seemed hollow. 'It's OK. That—that all sounds very sensible.'

She volunteered nothing more and Tom sighed as he turned the car and prepared to chug up the hill towards the school—only to find himself forced to stop. 'What the—'

Beside him, he heard Christine make a strange sound. A glance in the rearview mirror showed Connor and Imogen exchanging a look that could only be described as smug, and Tom's eyes narrowed.

Christine was literally gawping as she took in the sight of the kids blocking the school gates, armed with a banner that said 'Welcome back, Mrs M'. 'But—but—'

'It was Dynasty's idea,' Imogen offered, a smile stretching from ear to ear. 'She wanted you to see that we need you, Christine, Head or not.'

Christine covered her eyes with one hand. 'Call her off.'

'What?' Imogen sounded puzzled—puzzled and hurt, Tom thought. 'Why? She was just trying—'

'Yes, Imogen, I know!' Christine snapped, turning to face her daughter-in-law. 'I know,' she repeated more gently, 'but … look, love, we know Bain has got it in for me, yeah?' A flicker of the eyes betrayed Imogen's agreement. 'His daughter's a teacher and he's made her boyfriend the new Head. I'm… an inconvenience. D'you really think this is going to help me settle back in as a teacher? Help me keep my job?'

Tom reached over to squeeze the girl's shoulder as her face fell. 'She's right. Go on, both of you. Explain to Dynasty.' He gave her a half-wink. 'We made you prefects, this is why. Go and earn your keep.'

Connor was already out of the car, Tom saw, and by the time he realised they'd made a tactical error it was too late: the car was surrounded by excited kids, all yelling at once.

'Shit,' he muttered. 'Chris, get out. It's you they want, show yourself and get 'em to pull back.'

She seemed frozen in her seat and he lost patience. This could turn nasty very easily and she was the only one who could stop it. Neither the school nor Christine herself would benefit if the police were called in for a second time in as many months.

'Christine! They still think of you as their Head, for God's sake act like it!'

Her eyes skittered towards him. 'Yeah, yeah, 'course.' She stumbled out of the car and Tom winced at the wall of sound that greeted her. Then he spotted Simon Lowsley pushing his way through the crowds and groaned; every protective instinct he had was telling him to get out of the car and stand shoulder to shoulder with his lover, but something held him back. He undid his seatbelt and held the door slightly open; if the other man tried to pull anything he'd—

'Mrs Mulgrew,' Simon greeted, his stance rather less cocky than usual.

The kids went from rowdy to quiet between one heartbeat and the next.

Christine's chin came up and her shoulders went back. 'Mr Lowsley,' she responded, the syllables clipping harshly.

Simon inched closer and Tom tensed. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Connor poised, ready to pounce.

It wasn't necessary. Simon was holding out his hand. Tom felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck as the entire school—or at least the portion of it surrounding his car—held its breath.

The line of Christine's shoulders remained absolutely rigid.

'I don't think we're quite ready for that, do you?' she asked coolly, and someone gave a muted cheer. She was down on them in a flash. 'Who was that? Courtenay? What a surprise. Cooler for you, young lady. I'll be with you shortly. And the rest of you, what do you think you're doing, blocking the road like this? You could have caused an accident!'

Several of kids at the edges of the crowd were already starting to melt away, and Tom judged it was time to make an appearance. 'We do appreciate the loyalty you've shown,' he said as he went to stand next to Christine, 'but there's a time and a place. Connor, open the gates, round up the other prefects and get everyone to their form rooms.'

'I'll give you a hand,' Simon offered awkwardly. Tom caught Connor's startled glance in response, but for once the boy had the sense not to protest.

It was not long before Christine and Tom found themselves almost alone, eyeing each other over the top of Tom's car, the driver's side still open. He slipped into his seat and leaned across when she did not move.

'Chris? Coming or going?'

She brushed her hair behind her ears and met his gaze. 'I'm going to my classroom, I'm not up to running the gauntlet in the staffroom just yet.'

He nodded. 'Sure, see you later.'

Her smile was strained. 'Sure. Later.'

He rested his arms on the top of the steering wheel as he watched her go, her long coat blowing in the wind as she chivvied the few remaining stragglers into school. He'd no idea of what she was thinking or feeling just now; when she so chose Christine could be unsettlingly opaque. He'd have to catch up with her later, to see how she was doing—

He started the car and moved it to his favoured spot in the car park, sighing as he locked up and realised that Simon Lowsley was lingering by the front door, a stiff-backed Sonya at his side. That meant they were waiting for him.

'Problem?' he called as he reached them.

Simon was looking a tad flustered whilst Sonya's lips were thin.

Tom glanced at secretary. 'Sonya?'

'The student's come,' she said. 'She's in me office, waitin' on you.'

Tom's eyebrows rocketed. 'Me? Why me? Christine's Head of English.'

Simon shrugged. 'She insisted on seeing you. Says she knows you.'

Sonya sniffed. 'She's right full of 'erself, that one.'

'Be nice,' Tom chided. 'She's just learning, you've got to cut her some slack. What's her name?'

Sonya squinted at the paper she held. 'Aspinall. Doesn't give 'er first name, just M.'

His eyebrows came together. 'M. Aspinall? I don't know any—_Bloody hell!_' He brushed past them and sprinted down the corridor towards the office, his heart pounding hard against his ribs. It couldn't be, could it? She'd have told him, or Chlo would.

And _Aspinall_? He'd thought that was long over. Why had she—?

He pushed into the office and stopped dead. As he'd expected, his adopted daughter turned to face him with a wide beam.

'Surprise!'

He blinked, still stunned. 'Mika?' His gaze went to the child in her arms. 'Mika and a _baby_?!'

* * *

_I've wanted to do this for a while, but had trouble deciding which old-WR character to use. I considered Davina, but TBH I can't stand her and didn't think I could be fair writing her. I have to admit Mika isn't a huge favourite either, but there's things I can do with her. So... what do you think? Any ideas for this complication? I will say one thing: it ain't gonna be happy families..._


	6. Episode 2-2

_Glad people are still enjoying this, especially the four who reviewed:_

_**Paisley:**__ :) Glad you liked it. _

_**Daydreams-About-Fallen-Stars: **__LOL. The buba is a deliberate plot device... _

_**loveistheprotection: **__*g* Thought you'd like that. By the same token, you should enjoy this next bit. And I'm waiting for more of yours!_

_**Jessiekat89:**__ Brett, yeah. Not sure yet what (if any) part he'll play in this. And yup, conflicting loyalties is gonna be a big part of this fic. The last one was more action-driven, this is more political in a sense. _

_Also: a teeny plug. For those of you who like Christine, I've just posted a Christine/George (I'm still in shock myself) canon-compliant one-shot, _**If All Else Fails.**_ Please do have a look and let me know what you think!_

* * *

**Mrs Mulgrew's room, 8.50am**

* * *

Christine dumped her teaching bag behind her desk and sank into the chair, her fingers already pressing into her forehead. She'd made a detour to the cooler to send Courtenay off to her form-room together with a reminder that Mr Lowsley was Head now and it would be wise not to forget it. The cheeky grin the Year 10 girl had flashed as she departed had not done much to ease Christine's worries; as she'd said to Imogen, she was acutely aware of the precariousness of her position. If Robert Bain had gone to these extremes to install his daughter's boyfriend as Head of Waterloo Road, her continued presence would not be long tolerated if she became a focal point for pupils disaffected by the new regime. Even without the events of the term before her past provided more than enough ammunition to have her permanently debarred from teaching … if Bain was sufficiently motivated to dig for it. She'd do all she could to avoid giving him that motivation, and she'd counsel the kids to do likewise.

A knock on her door roused her from her thoughts and she called a distracted 'Come in' as she pulled up her bag, half-expecting Audrey or Sonya.

'Mrs Mulgrew?' Tom's voice said, and she glanced up from extracting her laptop, startled by the formality.

He was not alone. By his side stood a tall young woman neatly garbed in a suit with a pair of eclectic earrings that peeped out from beneath the edges of an asymmetrical bob, and Christine bounded to her feet as she realised who the young woman must be.

'You must be my new student,' she greeted as she circled her desk, her hand outstretched.

'Yeah, I'm Mika,' the young woman responded, taking Christine's hand and shaking it—but her eyes kept straying to Tom, and Christine experienced a pang; young, pretty, unburdened…

Tom looked uncomfortable. 'Chris, she's not just your new student. Um, this is Mika. My adopted daughter Mika.'

Christine's eyebrows shot up as relief mingled uneasily with exasperation. 'Well, thanks for the warning!'

'He didn't know,' Mika put in, bright blue eyes going from Christine to Tom and back again. 'I wanted to give him a surprise.'

'Heart attack, more like,' Tom grumbled.

Mika dug him in the ribs with an elbow. 'Stop pretending to be an old codger, I can see straight through you.'

Christine was feeling increasingly awkward. How was this supposed to work? She was Tom's lover and Mika was his adopted daughter… They'd planned to mentor this PGCE student between them, but that couldn't happen now. Not with such a clear conflict of interest. She leaned back against her desk and studied the pair in front of her.

'A warning would've been nice, Mika. You need a mentor who isn't connected to you in any way and—'

'But that's you, isn't it?' Mika interrupted. 'I know Tom can't do it, I know all about teacher politics. My mum was a teacher too.'

'I know,' Christine said, trying for a smile. 'But it's not that easy… Tom?' Her voice was not entirely steady as she said his name. She'd heard reams about Mika and Chlo and Donte and the children, but it seemed the same was not true in reverse. Mika seemed to genuinely not know who she was.

'Mika's been awol,' Tom said quickly (too quickly?). 'Even Chlo said she hadn't heard from her in a bit. Been busy, haven't you?' He grinned at the younger woman, all the time moving to stand by Christine. When he reached for Christine's hand, Mika's eyes nearly popped out of her head.

'Oh my God, I'm such an idiot. He called you Chris… you're _that_ Chris?'

'Whatever 'that' means,' Christine assented, sending Tom a swift look. 'And it's Christine.'

'Yeah, I'm privileged,' Tom added, grinning widely as he gave her a half-hug. 'I'm the only one she lets call her Chris. Even the kids don't get away with it often.'

'Kids?' Mika queried.

'My son and daughter-in-law,' Christine explained, awkwardness washing over her anew. 'They're in Year 12, you'll meet them next week when the exams are over.'

Tom pulled away.

'Next week? Why not tonight? No time like the present. What d'you say, Mika? Come for dinner, yeah? I'll even do that spag bog you used to like—assuming you're eating normal food—'

'Make it a vegetarian spag bol and you've got a deal,' Mika agreed while Tom groaned in disgust and Christine made welcoming noises and smiled until her cheeks hurt. If Tom started messing around in the kitchen Connor would end up helping, he always did, and then what would become of his revision. The boy always seemed to be looking for an excuse to avoid it these days. If it wasn't for Imogen…

A bell went and she started, aware that time was marching and in half an hour her room would be invaded by Year 7s expecting their first taste of 'big school' exams. Tom realised it too; she knew from the way his posture changed.

'Mika, I've got to go,' he said. 'My form'll be waiting and they've got mocks so there'll be panic attacks to soothe… Sound familiar?'

The young woman grinned. 'Yup. What will I do in the meantime?'

'That's up to Christine, love. I'll see you later!' He gave Mika a quick kiss on the cheek and departed with only a nod for Christine, and she shivered, pulling her cardigan tighter around her. She'd forgotten how chilly her classroom could be without a jacket.

'Well.' Another attempt at a smile. 'Let's sit down, shall we? This isn't your first placement, is it?'

'First full time placement,' Mika said. 'The last one was only three days a week.'

'I see.' Christine pulled up her bag once more and extracted a lever arch that held her current department work and pulled out a copy of the QTS standards, flipping through it quickly. She gave a soundless whistle at the endless lists that needed to be checked. 'Whew. Lots to do, I'm glad I'm not in your shoes!'

_It was hell enough as it was_, flashed through her mind and she blanked it. Mika, eager and enthusiastic, was everything she herself had not been. She'd already been walking wounded by the time her course started and she'd thrown herself into it with the single-minded intensity of a woman who had nothing else. Even (especially) her pregnancy had come second place.

'Here's my folders from last term,' Mika said, pushing across two folders, one red, one blue, across the desk. 'Do you need to look through them—?'

'Thanks.' Christine accepted them and flipped one open, her stomach muscles clenching as she was confronted with the blurb she remembered from her own trainee days. Her alcoholism had debarred her from seniority all these years, and thus she'd never had a student before; she'd never had to directly confront the worst year of her life.

She slammed the folder shut, cardboard cracking against paper and wood.

Mika's eyes widened and once again Christine found herself dredging for a smile. 'I'll look through them later. For now, Year 7 will be bursting in at any moment and they'll be expecting exam conditions. Shall we get things ready for them?'

Mika smiled widely. 'Sure. You're the boss!'

Christine dipped her head to hide her expression and began to pull desks into formation.

_Not anymore. _

* * *

**Mr Clarkson's room, 9.20am**

* * *

'Where d'you think he is?' Dynasty hissed in Rhiannon's ear. ''E's ten minutes late an' our exams is supposed to start at 'alf past.'

Rhiannon rolled her eyes. 'Yeah, an' he's Deputy Head an' all, innit? 'E's probably still holed up with Mr Lousy.'

Dynasty allowed herself a grin. 'That's a good 'un. Where'd d'you get it?'

Rhiannon was smirking complacently as she shoved her exam timetable back into her bag. 'I 'eard Mr Windsor callin' 'im that to Sonya. Somehow I don't think Lousy's makin' 'imself too popular with t'teachers, no matter what they say.'

Dynasty was no longer listening, her gaze going anxiously to the door. Was Mr Clarkson angry with her for organising the demonstration that morning? Worse, was Christine? Her fingers strayed to her badge, caressing the sharp metallic edge. Maybe they'd take the Head Girlship away from her, that Mr Lowsley was dying to do so, she was sure of it. And there were no prizes for who he'd choose in her stead. Imogen might be fooled, but Dynasty wasn't; like any Barry, she could be stealthy when she chose to be and she'd inadvertently caught sight of Louisa coming into school in Mr Lowsley's car, with Miss Spark smirking in the front seat.

She began to chew on her lip. If only she could talk to Imogen, but the other girl had seemed glued to Louisa's hip all week. Dynasty knew that was no-one's fault but her own; Imogen had tried to approach her, but the Head Girl had found herself unable to respond. Perhaps it was grief and shock, perhaps it was something simpler: an irrational fear and jealousy that surged through her every time she saw Imogen and Louisa together, conversing with hands instead of voices.

'It'll never last,' Rhiannon said, breaking into her thoughts, and Dynasty started.

'What d'you mean?'

'Don't be a numpty. You're worried about Imogen and that Lulu, aren't yer?'

'She's me best mate,' Dynasty said wistfully. 'No offence.'

Rhiannon grinned. 'None taken. Cheer up, 'ere's Mr Clarkson.'

Their form teacher did not seem entirely himself as he walked down the length of the classroom to this desk, a frown on his face, and Dynasty's mouth went dry. He must be furious!

'Right you lot,' Mr Clarkson said as he perched on one corner of his desk. 'Mocks. These are important, don't mess them up. Most of you have A1 in June and these'll help us work out where you need support and where you can look after yourselves. If you need help, shout.'

'A brain transplant'd be more useful,' Dynasty heard Connor grouse from behind her and she twisted to glance at him, meaning to give him a reassuring smile—but she found herself confronted with Kevin's pleading eyes instead and returned to her proper position, her shoulders stiffening.

He'd moved back to Grantly House several days before, and Kacey still hadn't forgiven her for it. Her mum wasn't much better, always dropping not-so-subtle hints that she should get over it and ask him back—but how could she? He wasn't Barry, but it seemed he was shoving himself into all the spaces that had belonged to her brother, his presence aggravating instead of soothing the unhealed wound.

'Dynasty, you can sort that, can't you?' Mr Clarkson said, and she jumped, having completely zoned out.

'Y—yeah, sir. Sure. Er—'

'I don't think she's been listening, sir,' came Louisa's sweetly malicious tones.

Dynasty's mouth reacted before her brain had time to catch up. 'You shut up, what do you know, eh? Think yer a mindreader, do yer?'

Louisa smiled. 'Thought not.'

Dynasty glared at Imogen, hoping to shame her into protest, but her best friend (make that former best friend, she thought darkly) only lifted her shoulders in a helpless gesture. Suddenly unable to see clearly, Dynasty stared fixedly at the exam timetable in front of her.

Rhiannon nudged her. 'Dyn, 'e's waitin' on yer.'

'What?' She glanced up to find that Mr Clarkson was indeed watching her expectantly. 'I'm sorry, sir, what d'you want us to do? I, I wasn't listenin'.'

'So I gathered, Miss Barry.' Dynasty dropped her gaze once more, embarrassed. 'The council have cut our budget again and if we want to keep things like the breakfast club going, we need to make up the shortfall. Mr Lowsley wants the prefects to organise a fundraiser for half term. Can do?'

'A—a fundraiser?' Surely she'd heard wrong.

'Yeah, it could be anything. Mrs Budgen was talking this morning about having some sort of bake-off, that could be fun. Whatever, it's up to you.'

'Sir, maybe this isn't the right time,' she heard Kevin say from behind her, his voice seeming to come from far away. 'It's not a month yet.'

Dynasty had started to shake, her mind playing back the events of several weeks before in an endless loop: Mrs Mulgrew offering her the stage, Dynasty herself starting her little speech, so confident and happy that all was going well, Steve-O, the gun, the shot, and Barry… She'd caught a glimpse of sightless eyes and fountains of blood before Kevin hustled her away…

'Dynasty?' Mr Clarkson prompted. 'Can you do this? You don't have to, I realise what we're asking, Imogen or Kevin or one of the others can take the lead on this one—'

'Whatever, sir.' She stumbled to her feet, aware that everyone was looking at her, but she couldn't see them properly. Her vision had gone blocky, the light all wrong.

'Dynasty?' That was Imogen, sounding alarmed. 'Are you OK?'

'Dyn?' Kevin, his hand on her arm.

She shook him off. 'I g-gotta g-go,' she stammered. She felt detached from herself as she left the classroom, unheeding of the calls coming after her. On autopilot she turned right at the bottom of the corridor and ascended the stairs, coming to a trembling stop outside Mrs Mulgrew's classroom door.

She stared at it, aware that there was something she should do instead of bursting in—especially when Christine seemed to have a visitor—but it didn't seem to matter. Nothing mattered. Still in a fog, she leaned on the door and found she could go no further, her knees turning to jelly beneath her.

'Dynasty?'

Christine's voice was brisk and businesslike, but it was familiar. Over the past three months that voice had come to represent safety and security, a constant anchor in storm.

Dynasty tried to draw a breath. 'I—I can't do this.'

'Come on.' Christine was beside her, guiding her towards the nearest seat. 'Sit. Mika, could you run and get a hot tea from the staffroom? Plenty of sugar.' A door slammed, less than a metre away, but Dynasty did not even flinch. 'Dyn?' Hands on her face. 'Dyn, look at me. Come on, look at me.'

Dynasty obeyed, her gaze finding anxious hazel eyes.

'Breathe. That's it. Mika—Mrs Aspinall—has gone to get you a tea. What's happened?'

'I—I c-can't do it,' Dynasty stuttered again. 'Any of it, miss. I can't be 'Ead Girl, I can't do me exams, I'm crap at everythin', everyone 'ates me, even Imogen, and Kev—' Her voice broke and Christine made a crooning sound as she pulled Dynasty close and rocked her.

'It's called grief, love. This is how it works—'

'I want it to stop. I wanna be normal again, I wanna be _me_—'

'And you will. You need to give it time.'

Dynasty shuddered. 'Time? How much time?'

Christine was still rocking her, her chin warm against the top of Dynasty's head. 'I don't know. It'll take as long as it takes.'

Dynasty clutched at the soft wool of the older woman's cardigan. 'I'm glad you're 'ere.'

'I'm always here. If not at school, then at home. It's like you said, family, eh?'

Dynasty blinked up at her. 'You're not mad at me?'

'About what?'

'This mornin'? Don't be mad, please don't be mad—' Her grasp on the cardigan tightened until the old wool yielded, forming a hole.

'Hey, calm down. I'm not mad, it was a lovely thing to think of.'

'But stupid,' Dynasty said dully. 'See, miss? I'm thick now, amn't I?'

'_Not_ stupid,' Christine said in the inflexible tone that Dynasty knew. 'Just shellshocked. Last term was a rough ride with one hell of a finish. You're still adjusting. Now. Did Mr Clarkson get you and Kacey extra time for your exams?'

Dynasty was sniffling too hard for speech, but she nodded.

'You don't need to take them if you don't want to,' Christine was saying softly. 'There's no reason you and Kacey can't postpone your exams for now, have an extra year at school if that's what it comes to.'

'Could I?' The thought was like a weight off Dynasty's shoulders. 'You're not 'avin' us on?'

'Well, we'd have to talk to Mr Clarkson and—and Mr Lowsley. The exam board already know about your case, theoretically there shouldn't be a problem.'

Dynasty sat back, accepting the hanky her teacher pressed into her hand. 'But I'd still be able to come into school, like?'

'You bet! This isn't a passport to a year of leisure, young lady!'

Dynasty managed a watery grin and blew her nose hard, allowing herself to lean against Christine's shoulder and blinking dazedly at the soundproofing tiles on the ceiling. As a result she felt Christine stiffen before she heard the cause of the older woman's tension: the sounds of riot coming from a nearby classroom.

She pulled back. 'What's that?'

Christine was already on her feet, her mouth set in a grim line. Dynasty rose too, childishly wanting to stay close. 'It's coming from the science lab—' Mrs Mulgrew left the room as she spoke, Dynasty hard on her heels, curiosity overcoming all else for the moment.

'D'you think they've been left alone?'

Christine seemed to have forgotten she was merely a pupil.

'God knows. It's either that or they've got an incompetent teacher—' They'd reached the lab by this time and Dynasty hovered at Christine's shoulder as the older woman opened the door and silence fell like a stone. The last thing Dynasty saw before Christine ordered her away was Miss Spark's face, bright red with hatred and humiliation.

* * *

_Comments=a very happy writing bunny who generates more... :)_


	7. Episode 23

_Sorry about the delay, folks! This part has taken longer than usual, partly because the general plot is less easy to quickly define than was the case with the first story. However, I think we're getting there!_

_Fabulous reviews, let's see… _

_**Niamh**__: Thanks and here you go!_

_**Paisley**__: LOL! I hope this is dramatic enough for you! Although not in the same way as last time, this is more character driven in a sense so may be fewer plot big-bangs. Then again… have to wait and see!_

_**Virgo girl 14:**__ Thanks! Good to know, I was worrying whether the change of pace here might mean that people would find it less interesting. _

_**Jessiekat89**__: More Simon and Sue coming straight up (but not together in the same scene, yet…)._

_**Loveistheprotection**__: I'm still annoyed by the fact that they didn't explore the possibility of a closer bond between Christine and Dynasty on the show. It's not as if WR hasn't done teacher-pupil 'friendships' before; look at Nikki and Kacey, Tom and Kacey, Rachel and Bolton… I can fix that in fanfic and it's nice to see you doing the same thing! :)_

_**Alice**__: Er…. I might have made both Mika and Sue a little bit evil here? However, it won't stay that way. More Sue-centric stuff coming up next 'episode' which should make her more sympathetic… because it's too easy to turn her into a cartoon baddie, almost. Good point about the tranquilisers, I might have to work that in. _

* * *

**Staff Room, 10.45am**

* * *

'And who's a handsome young man then, eh?' Sue Spark cooed to the staffroom's youngest resident as Audrey looked on in amusement over the top of her glasses, her needles clicking their usual accompaniment. 'It's Tommy! Yay! Just like your gramps, isn't that right?'

Audrey frowned as the younger woman swung towards her, still babbling nonsense, and used a knitting needle to point at the child. 'I think you've got the wrong end of the stick, Sue. Tom is no blood relation to young Master Aspinall there.'

Sue's brows came together. 'But I thought—'

'You jumped to conclusions like always,' Sonya spat from her usual spot next to Audrey, showering crumbs liberally as she did so. Since Christine's deposition the secretary had refused to take any of her breaks at her desk.

Sue ignored her with a toss of her red head. 'Adopted grandchild then, if you must be pedantic.'

Audrey saw Sonya's puzzled look at the unfamiliar word out of the corner of her eye and 'accidentally' kicked the younger woman's ankle in warning. No point in giving Sue more ammunition, she thought. Yet if Sue noticed she gave no sign, swinging back towards the door and talking in the overly-sweet tones that always set Audrey's teeth on edge.

'And what about our dear leader as-was? Has she met the young man? Because let's see, if Tom's Tommy's adopted grandpa that makes Christine his sort-of grandmother, doesn't it?'

'I wouldn't have put it quite that way,' Maggie put in from Audrey's other side, and the history teacher gave a silent nod of approval, receiving a quick smirk-turned-smile in response. After a rocky start as joint housemistresses she and Maggie had become firm friends and allies.

Sue threw them a coquettish look over her shoulder. 'Wouldn't you? Well, I would. Families come in all shapes and sizes these days and—Christine! At last!'

Audrey let her knitting drop and jumped to her feet, calling 'Sue—' but it was too late. Sue had already shoved baby Tommy into the former Head's arms with, 'Here, take your grandson.'

Christine's eyes went wide.

'My _what_?' she gasped, and Audrey guessed that only pure instinct prevented her from dropping the baby. Unfortunately, Tommy did not approve of being clutched at and let out an indignant squall as his former minder made good her escape while Christine called, 'Sue! Sue, wait, I'm talking to you!'

'Evil little cat,' Sonya said, coming to take Tommy from a bewildered Christine. 'Come to your Auntie Sonya, pet. Want your tea, boss? Audrey—'

'I'm on it,' Audrey said swiftly, suiting the action to the word. 'Christine, take a seat and we'll explain. It's not like it sounds.'

Christine seemed to have recovered from her earlier shock, one corner of her mouth twitching as she sat in her old place, her back to the bookshelves. 'I'm glad to hear it, I must say. Otherwise my son and daughter-in-law would have some serious explaining to do!'

'Don't be daft, it ain't them at all,' Sonya told her, bouncing Tommy on her knee as Audrey returned with the drinks. ''Ere's your tea. Got your Kitkat? You can eat up while we tell yer.'

'I'm sure Christine's quite capable of feeding herself, Sonya,' Maggie put in, and Christine rolled her eyes and flourished the chocolate bar Audrey had produced.

'You'd think so, wouldn't you? OK, I'm listening.'

Audrey exchanged a glance with Maggie, but once again it was Sonya who got there first.

''E's Mika Aspinall's. Which makes 'im Tom's sort-of grandson which makes you—'

'His sort-of step-step-grandmother if you've got that kind of twisted mind,' Christine finished. 'OK, I understand that. But—what's he doing here? Why isn't he in some sort of childcare? A school's no place for a kid that young!'

They'd been so intent in their conversation they'd failed to notice Sue's return—and her companion.

'I'm sorry my son's such an inconvenience,' Mika snapped as she extracted her baby from Sonya's grasp. 'In my day Waterloo Road made provision for _everyone_ attached to the school, even the babies. I hadn't realised how all the Heads since had crushed the caring out of the place!'

Christine jumped to the school's defence, her words making it clear she'd temporarily forgotten the new status quo.

'I'm sorry, Mika, but things change. We just don't have the funds or facilities for that kind of thing these days, and that being so, the school really is no place for your son. I can't have my staff—'

'_Your_ staff?' Mika interrupted. 'They're not your staff anymore, remember?'

Audrey felt sick on her friend's behalf when she saw how Christine's colour faded and her eyes closed, her lips compressing as though from pain.

'You see what I mean,' Sue said, folding her arms under her green chintz-clad bust and turning towards Mika. 'This is what she's like. Just as well we've got a proper Head now, isn't it?'

'Oi!' Sonya protested. 'An' what d'you know about it, eh?' Her stance was belligerent while Sue's eyes glittered. It wouldn't take much to trigger an actual catfight between them, the history teacher thought anxiously.

Nor was Audrey the only one to notice.

'Sonya!' Christine spoke with flat authority and Sonya simmered down.

'Oh, look at the little lap dog,' Sue sneered. 'Christine says jump and Sonya says, how high? I'll be having words with my dad about that, I think. Get Simon a _proper_ secretary—'

'Sue—' Maggie tried while Christine ordered, 'Leave Sonya alone.'

With the extra inches afforded by her heels, the former Head had a couple of inches over the young Science teacher as she rose to face her. 'Please, Sue. I'm sorry about happened earlier, that was just … bad luck. It happens to us all. And if you have issues with me… you have issues with me, but don't—_don't_—take them out on anyone else.'

'Or… _what_, Mrs Mulgrew?' Sue inquired with faux politeness.

Christine did not respond verbally, but Audrey noted how her eyes turned hard and she winced internally, half-expecting a bitter tirade.

But none came. Christine turned instead to Mika.

'Mika, I can't apologise for this enough. Your son, he's a lovely little boy and I'm really, _really_ looking forward to getting to know him, but… not in school. It's not safe for him, it's not safe for us; if—God forbid—anything should happen, we're not insured. _Please_ take him away.'

'Fine.' Mika shifted her baby on her hip. 'Since he's such a problem I'll find somewhere to put him. As to getting to know him, you can forget it. He's having nothing to do with you, which means… dinner's _off_. Permanently!'

'Where are you going?' Christine called after her as she stormed through the suddenly silent staffroom to the door. 'Mika, I didn't mean it like that!'

The young woman paused on the threshold. 'Too little, too late. For the record, I'm glad you're not Head anymore. Also for the record, I'm going to find Tom. Looks like he needs putting straight on a few things, eh?!' The door closed behind her with a resounding slam.

Christine sank down again, even whiter than before, and while Sonya spluttered indignation and Maggie topped up the teas, Audrey gave her friend's hand a gentle squeeze.

It wasn't enough, but it was all she could do.

* * *

**Crush Hall, 11.35am**

* * *

Imogen was only half-listening to Louisa as the other girl chattered about her last school and the preparations for exams there, glancing at her only enough to get the gist of it. She was reasonably confident about her own exams; she had an excellent memory and was one of those people who actively enjoyed the stimulation of having to think on her feet, as it were. It was only the run-up she struggled with, when her imagination went into overdrive and she saw herself faced with an impossible paper that seemed to cover only the topics she _hadn't_ studied…

She twisted the key in her locker and turned, armed only with the regulation clear pencil case. She'd glanced quickly at her phone before shoving it in the locker and she knew there was a while to go; Year 12 could not use the hall until Year 11 had vacated it. Already her pulse was accelerating at the thought, but she knew from experience the panic would go as soon as she was seated at her desk.

_Which is more than you can say for Connor_, she thought as her gaze lit upon her husband. He and Kevin were lolling on the bench that stood in the centre of crush hall… or rather, Kevin was lolling and Connor was hunched over a textbook, one hand feverishly flipping through the pages while the other pulled at his hair.

'Imogen!' Louisa said, touching her arm. 'Did you hear what I said?'

Imogen's gaze flickered back to her momentarily. 'Sorry, no. Look, Lulu, I need to go.' She gestured towards Connor and Louisa's face fell.

'Oh you can't! Please don't leave me alone, I'm always so terrified before exams, you can't think!'

'Sorry,' Imogen said again and tried to brush past, her whole being focused on going to Connor and doing what she could to lift the anxiety that hovered over him like a storm-cloud.

Louisa's fingers dug into her arm. 'Imogen!'

Suddenly irritated by her clinginess, Imogen threw her off. 'Lulu, you're my mate but Connor's my husband. He comes first!'

'He'll be fine, he's got Kevin and Dynasty and everyone else!' Louisa's blue eyes turned shiny, and Imogen was horrified to realise that the other girl looked as if she was about to cry, but Imogen couldn't escape the nagging suspicion that she was being manipulated.

_Dynasty would never have done this, she'd've understood_. _She'd've done the same if it was Kevin…Where is she, anyway?_

She hadn't realised she'd spoken the last thought aloud until she saw how Louisa's eyes had narrowed.

'I'm telling you that I'm absolutely and utterly _phobic_ of exams and you're thinking about someone _else_?' She sounded nearly hysterical. 'I thought we were friends!'

Imogen couldn't stand it a moment longer. 'We are. Look, we'll have to do this later. If it's really a problem you need to speak to Mr Clarkson or Miss McFall—' She threw the last words over her shoulder and in all honesty did not care whether Louisa had heard them or not as she went to crouch next to Connor.

'Hey.' He didn't lift his head and she reached out, swiping his book from under his nose as he made a futile grab for it.

'Give us it back!'

'Nope.' Imogen clutched it to her chest, grinning over the top of it. 'Honestly, what are you like? It's not like it'd do you any good at this point.' Still holding the textbook, she slipped into the space Kevin had obligingly made for her and bumped her shoulder against her husband's. 'Don't look so worried, it's just a mock, you'll be fine.'

'I won't, my brain doesn't work that way, it's just mush.'

'You got through your GCSEs,' Imogen pointed out. 'And that was _before_.' No need to explain what "before" meant. 'At least now you've got me and your mum and Tom…'

Connor didn't look especially cheered. 'That makes it worse, you're all so brainy and me? I'm just average and when I'm in an exam everything I ever knew about proper essay writing goes out the window… GCSEs are different, they're easy, all you have to do is write what you know. A'level I have to actually _think _and_ analyse_.'

Realising he was getting too worked up to concentrate on actual _words_, Imogen decided on a different method of communication.

'Well, if you're screwed anyway maybe this'll help,' she said, dumping herself in his lap and lifting his chin so that she could bestow a deep kiss, her hands cradling his cheeks.

The kiss went on and on and she broke it off only when she felt the tension leave Connor's body (and before she got too swept along herself; they were about to go into an exam, after all). Yet she remained close, nose to nose and exchanging oxygen with him in a moment that was strangely intimate amidst the hurly-burly of the crush hall.

'Better now?' she asked at last when she felt his shoulders lift as he exhaled a long breath.

'H'mmm. If that's what I get for freaking out—'

She grinned. 'You'll have to freak out more often, eh?'

'Something like that.'

They exchanged another quick kiss before separating, aware that they would be expected in hall at any minute now that the Year 11s were streaming out in dribs and drabs. Connor frowned and indicated Kevin, pacing up and down in front of hall's double doors, his hands shoved deeply in his pockets and muttering all the while.

'Looks like someone else could do with some calming.'

'That's Dynasty's job,' Imogen responded without thinking.

'Imogen.' Connor's hands closed over hers. 'Go and talk to her. I'll sort Kev.'

Imogen's throat tightened. 'I've tried! I tried last night, you were there, she hung up on us!'

'Try again. I'm dead serious, she needs you.'

'Now?' Another glance towards the clock. Their exam was due to start at noon and finish at half-one. 'It's not the right time, before an exam. Anyway, I don't know where she is.'

Connor was silent for a long moment before he said, 'Try Mum's room. If there's not an exam in there I bet that's where you'll find Dyn.'

Imogen heaved a sigh and stood up, clutching her exam-ready pencil case. 'Will you be OK?'

He quirked the smile she loved so much. 'I'll live.'

'OK.' She gave a single decisive nod. 'I'll find her. And you, you can go to your mate there and stop him from wearing a path in the lino.'

Connor jerked his head towards Louisa as he got to his feet. 'What about her? She's been staring at us the whole time.'

'Yeah.' Imogen sighed a second time. 'I'll have to do something about that, she needs more mates than just me. Dynasty should help with that anyway,' she added with a flare of indignation as she turned to go. 'She's Head Girl, that's part of the job, isn't it? Helping with new people?'

Connor simply lifted his shoulders in response and Imogen groaned.

'I know, I know. But seriously, if she can't handle it she should give it up!'

'Watch it,' Connor mouthed, indicating the rabble around them and Louisa, still watching them avidly. 'There's an audience. Imagine what Dynasty'd do if she knew you'd said that, and I don't trust her.' He jabbed his thumb in Louisa's direction.

Imogen rolled her eyes, her own misgivings vanishing in the face of Connor's. 'For God's sake, not you as well!'

Her husband simply raised his eyebrows in a manner that reminded her of her mother-in-law, and Imogen tutted to herself as she began to fight her way through the crowded crush hall towards the stairs to Christine's room. They were all so _suspicious_, she thought, Connor, Dynasty, even Christine, although at least her mother-in-law had tried to hide it. Just because they'd been to hell and back the previous term didn't mean that they had to look at all newcomers with a jaundiced eye, did it? Mr Lowsley or no Mr Lowsley…

* * *

**Mrs Mulgrew's room, 11.45am**

* * *

Dynasty knocked on the classroom door, uncharacteristically timid, and hoped that Christine was simply lurking out of sight. She'd had time to think about the older woman's suggestion that she defer her exams and wanted to ask if that extended to this present lot. Common sense told her that she should be talking to Tom or even Mr Lowsley, but she was feeling too raw for that, unsure of her ability to maintain her composure if the answer was no.

As a result she was frankly dismayed when it was the new student teacher who answered the door, opening it just enough to snap, 'Mrs Mulgrew's not here.'

Her tone set Dynasty's teeth on edge.

'No? Well, what're you doing in there then? Staffroom's that way.' She jabbed her thumb down the stairs.

Mrs Aspinall's eyes narrowed. 'I don't need to explain myself to you!'

'You're not exactly actin' innocent like, are yous?' Dynasty's hands had gone to her hips in the old way. 'Peerin' out through the door 'sif you've got something to hide. Whatcha doin', does Christine know you're in there?'

Mrs Aspinall's defined brows went up. '"Christine"?'

Dynasty folded her arms and lifted her chin, the dull sadness lifting at the prospect of a fight. 'That's Mrs Mulgrew in case you 'aven't worked it out.'

'I have work to do,' Mrs Aspinall told her. 'So if you've quite finished being annoying—' She glanced back into the room in answer to a high pitched wail, and Dynasty's eyes widened.

'You've got a kid in there!'

'Yeah, and he's mine. So unless you want a trip to the cooler, I suggest you hop it!'

'You're not allowed kids in school,' Dynasty informed her. 'It happened me first term, a teacher brought a kid in that had chicken pox and Mr Byrne was proper ticked off over it. Chalky nearly got suspended over it, Kev said.'

'Well, I'm not going to get suspended, don't worry. Not if Tom—Mr Clarkson—has anything to do with it!'

Now it was Dynasty who said, '"_Tom_"?' just as Imogen came panting up the stairs calling her name.

Mrs Apsinall nodded in her direction. 'Looks like you're wanted.'

'Well, I'm not movin'.' Dynasty glanced at Imogen as the shorter girl drew level with her. 'Mrs Aspinall's got a kid in Christine's room even though she knows it's not allowed. Claims Tom'll be OK an' all. D'you remember what happened that time with Chalky and the kid with chicken pox?'

'And the foundation on her poor wee face,' Imogen added with a nod, and the two exchanged looks of rueful amusement. 'She's right, miss,' Imogen went on. 'Seriously, you can't keep a kid in school! Especially not this school, you never know what'll happen next!'

'Like a load of broken records,' Mrs Aspinall muttered. 'And who might you be?'

'She's Imogen. Imogen _Mulgrew_. Christine's daughter-in-law,' Dynasty said before Imogen could answer.

To her surprise, Mrs Aspinall very pointedly looked Imogen up and down, her lips twitching. 'Right. And d'you know who I am?'

'Erm, you're a student teacher?'

Mrs Aspinall was openly smirking, her attention still fixed on Imogen. 'Yeah, but I'm also Tom's stepdaughter. Guess I should say, welcome to the family? Then again…' another pointedly assessing look that made Dynasty's blood boil on her friend's behalf, 'maybe not. Too soon to say, h'mm?'

Dynasty grabbed a flabbergasted Imogen's arm. 'C'mon, you. And _you_!' she added with fierce jab in Mrs Aspinall's direction, 'I'm going to tell Mr Clarkson about that kid an' we'll see what he has to say, stepdaughter or no stepdaughter!' Still holding on to Imogen's arm, she pulled the other girl around the corner and down past Mr Windsor's room until they found an empty alcove out of immediate earshot.

'I don't like her,' she said in a rush before Imogen could get a word in. 'She was there this morning when I had a meltdown. Christine sent her for tea an' she never bothered coming back. Shows how much she cares, eh? Crap teacher she'll make at that rate!'

'That's not fair. Maybe she had to go and look after the kid.'

'But what's 'e doin' in school, eh? She's just takin' advantage, she is.'

Imogen looked as though she was about to roll her eyes but caught herself in the nick of time. 'Dynasty, what is it with you at the minute? Are you trying to take a dislike to everyone you meet? First Louisa and now—is it Mika or Chlo?'

'What?'

'Which stepdaughter is it?' Imogen asked. 'Mika or Chlo? Wait, you called her Aspinall. Must be Mika then. '

Dynasty grabbed her arm. 'What, you mean she was tellin' the truth? She wasn't just havin' us on?'

'Why would she?' Imogen's exasperation was tangible.

Dynasty shrugged. ''Cos she wanted to mess with our heads?'

Her friend groaned. 'Look, Dyn, I know it's been… bad lately, but you have to stop treating everyone like they're your enemies. It's not right, it's not you.' She paused. '_Christine_ wouldn't like it, I've heard her say that she didn't want you to become like she used to be, all hard and closed-off.'

The words hit Dynasty with the all the force of a blow to the solar plexus and she gasped, 'Is that what you think of us? That I'm becomin' hard an' closed-off an'—an' hatin' everyone?' The next words were blurted without any conscious forethought: 'Is that why you've started hanging out with that "Lulu"?' Her tone turned the nickname into an expletive and Imogen physically reared back, as though to get away from her.

'Stop it, Dyn! She's my mate now too, the only person around here who _really_ honest-to-God gets what it's like for me bein' deaf…I'd've thought you of all people would understand, it's like you and Christine, the two of you have a special bond ''cos of… . I'm not jealous of that, why're you kicking off about me and Louisa?'

''Cos she's not bein' honest with you!' Dynasty shouted, forgetting caution. 'She's just playin' yer, Im, I'm telling you. If you'd just _listen_—'

'No! Not unless you stop this and become the real Dyn again, the one who cared about people and wanted to give them a chance!'

'She came to school this morning in Mr Lousy's car!'

The look Dynasty got in response was the closest thing to contempt she'd ever seen from her friend. 'And that's it? That's your big secret?'

'Oh, come on, Imogen. It's as plain as the nose on yer face, she's part of the plot to get rid of Christine and make Lousy the Head—'

'I'm not listening to this,' Imogen said, turning on her heel and clattering down the corridor. 'I've an exam to think about.'

'I'm not lyin'!' Dynasty called after her, forgetting it was futile. 'I swear!'

Someone put a heavy hand on her shoulder and she jumped, her heart rate going sky high, her breath catching as she reeled back against the wall. Her 'assailant' turned instantly apologetic.

'I'm sorry I scared you,' Mr Lowsley said carefully, moving his hands back as though in self-defence. 'I didn't mean to, that was insensitive and … yeah.'

Dynasty was still trying to recover herself after the altercation with Imogen and this was the last straw.

'Too bloody right! You're lucky you scared me so much I couldn't think, otherwise I'd've punched you in the face an' you'd've deserved it!'

The dark eyes facing hers hardened. 'All right, Miss Barry, that's enough, calm down now—'

'"Calm down"?' Dynasty repeated. 'Are you serious? D'you have any idea of the total… _shithole…_my life is right now?'

'Dynasty—'

'Don't you Dynasty me, what d'you know about it, thinkin' you can just come in here and take over… like we'll ever want you after the way you treated us last term!'

Mr Lowsley stilled. 'Yeah… I, I'm sorry about that.'

Her carried on talking but Dynasty was barely listening. Her mouth was dry and she was clammily cold in a way that she hadn't been since her bouts of morning sickness the term before. All of a sudden she was sure she was going to be sick, no-one could handle this amount of sheer _feeling_ without being sick, she had to get to the nearest loo fast and…

Mr Lowsley put a hand on her upper arm and she reacted instinctively, turning to knee him hard in the vicious way her mother had taught her (for all the good it had done her with Steve-O…) and stumbled on shaky legs towards the nearest toilet, almost uncaring of the fact that she'd left her Headteacher curled up in a ball of primal agony.

* * *

_TBC! Next time: Dynasty's in serious trouble and the events of the day coalesce into Tom and Christine's first major row... will it also be their last?_


	8. Episode 2-4

_**Next bit, and the end of Episode Two. Thanks as always for the reviews last time!**_

_**Niamh**__: As you see, I tend to update at the weekend. I'm glad you're enjoying and also that you like Tom/Christine! _

_**Paisley**__: Clearly I have a vein of profound bitchiness somewhere. I don't think I'm particularly bitchy in real life as a rule, but I certainly relish giving full rein of that side in fic. Sue gets a comeuppance of sorts here… _

_**Loveistheprotection**__: LOL! Yay, another Tom/Christine convert. _

_**Jessiekat89**__: She really was, but hopefully you'll see why._

* * *

**Downstairs Corridor, Noon**

* * *

Christine was on her way back to her classroom to do some exam marking when she was halted by the sound of a familiar voice calling her name—her given name, no less, and she turned with raised eyebrows, ready to remind Dynasty Barry that it should be "Mrs Mulgrew" in public, whatever the younger woman chose to use in private.

The reproof died on her lips. The girl was white with red-rimmed eyes, but it was the expression of pure panic on her features that gave Christine pause.

She didn't have a chance to enquire. As soon as Dynasty reached her, she grabbed Christine's arm and began dragging her towards the stairs, words tumbling over each other in a barely coherent torrent.

'I've messed up this time, seriously messed up, I dunno what to do, miss, I've really hurt 'im an' if 'e expels us what'll happen, I can't get kicked out, I'm dead sorry, I—'

Christine put a stop to the flow by refusing to allow herself to be pulled along. 'Dynasty, you're not making sense. Who've you hurt?'

Dynasty raised miserable blue eyes to her face. 'Mr Lousy.' A beat. 'I kneed 'im in the balls.'

Christine blinked. 'You—_what_?!'

When the younger woman demonstrated, confirming that she'd heard aright, Christine bit deeply into her lip. She'd never expected to be on the verge of hysterical laughter today, but the combination of George Windsor's malicious nickname for Simon and Dynasty's almost surreal confession was too much. She licked her lips and asked as evenly as she could, 'Er, why?'

'I—I'm not sure,' Dynasty stuttered, now as red as she had been white. ''E was tryin' to talk to us, an' he kept touchin' me. Not in a bad way, just on me shoulder, like, to make sure I was listenin' an' I lost it. I was so messed up I couldn't think straight an'…' Her lashes fluttered down, veiling her eyes. 'I kneed 'im. Like me mum showed us, right where it would 'urt most.'

Amusement died a swift death; Dynasty was right to be worried. She'd effectively assaulted a member of staff with little or no justification, Christine thought. 'Where is he now?'

Dynasty pointed upwards. 'Outside Mr Clarkson's room, the alcove.'

Christine made a sound that was half-sigh, half groan. 'Right. Well, you're coming with me.' She took the girl's elbow and ushered her up the stairs. 'We're going to find him and you're going to do whatever it takes—_whatever_ it takes, young lady—to get him to overlook this.'

'But what if he fires us?'

'He won't,' Christine told her, wishing she could be sure. Memory supplied her with a mental picture of Simon the term before, doing his level best to get Connor arrested after an assault that had followed a much greater provocation. 'He won't.'

'You don't know that!' Dynasty's tone was turning increasingly shrill. 'You're not Head anymore—'

'If one more person tells me that today I will scream,' Christine muttered, giving Dynasty a slight shake as they arrived outside her classroom. 'Dyn, you need to get a grip, do you understand me? This is serious. You need to be calm and as polite and as apologetic as you—' She broke off at the sight of the subject of their conversation coming around the corner, assisted on either side by Mika Aspinall and Sue Spark, and her grasp on Dynasty's arm tightened. 'Now's your chance—and for God's sake make it good!'

* * *

**Upstairs Corridor, 12.05pm**

* * *

Mika was carefully pinning notices along the English corridor, eager to make amends with Tom. After her altercation with Dynasty earlier, she'd decided to anticipate any action the Head Girl might take by going to Tom herself. She'd done so with some misgivings; after all, Tom had instructed her to make other arrangements for Tommy for the very reasons Christine had given: that they couldn't have such a young child in school, that no-one was qualified to look after him, that they weren't covered for his presence in the event of an emergency… and she'd ignored him.

In the event, he hadn't yelled—as she'd half-expected. It'd been worse than that, she could have dealt with him yelling. He'd been gently reproachful and calmly pointed out what a difficult situation she'd put them both in, professionally.

'You're damned lucky Christine isn't Head any longer,' he'd finished, giving her a look that said as clearly as words how much he resented having to make such a statement. 'It's bad enough as it is, but with Simon as Head we might just get away with it. But—and it's a big but—you've got a snowball's chance in hell unless your behaviour is absolutely and completely above reproach, d'you hear me? You've got to promise to toe the line, Mika, or I swear to God I'll phone the college myself and tell them we can't have you and why. You didn't tell _them_ about our relationship, I suppose?'

Feeling sixteen again, she shook her head.

'Or Tommy?'

Her head dropped lower. 'I told them I'd sorted childcare.'

'And have you?' She'd forgotten how intimidating his glare could be, or perhaps the added years had simply increased its strength.

'Yeah… just not for today.' She glanced up at him. 'Tom, I'm sorry, I just wanted you to see him—'

'There's a time and a place for that, and it isn't your first day on placement!'

'I know.' She shuffled her feet. 'Honest, Tom, I'm really sorry, I didn't think.' Once again she sought him out, wondering if she should come clean altogether. 'I—I think I might owe Christine an apology too.'

His jaw hardened and her stomach flipped as she realised he already knew. 'If one-tenth of what I've heard from Sonya is true, you're bloody well right you need to apologise! What the _hell_ was that about at break?'

Without intending it, the truth came out in one go.

'I was scared! Chlo said you couldn't stop talking about her and her kids and she was all pleased for you, you know Chlo, that you've a family of your own again and—and I thought, what about me? There won't be room for _me_!'

'There's always room for you but you're grown up! I can't be the centre of your world any more, that's Tommy and Brett!'

'It's not!' she'd shouted back. 'He cheated on me! I—I'm such an idiot, how could I think he'd ever change?'

Her adopted father had stared at her for a long moment before drawing her into his arms, murmuring affection and apologies into her hair as she struggled to keep hold of her composure.

The breakdown of her marriage had come so swiftly that she was still reeling from it herself: one moment they'd been happy, she'd got pregnant at last after several miscarriages, they'd been full of plans… and then Tommy had arrived and something had changed. Brett's affair with his secretary was simply the last straw. When her teacher training institution gave her a choice of where to go for her second placement and she'd spotted 'Waterloo Road, Greenock' on the list, she'd jumped at it, hungry for a new start and the chance to reconnect with the one source of stability she'd known since her mother's death nearly ten years before.

At last Tom had drawn back, stroking the hair off her face in the old way. 'I'm sorry to hear that, love…I—there's no words, are there?' Dumbly she'd shaken her head and he'd kissed her in the paternal manner she realised she'd missed. 'Look, we'll talk about it later, OK? You're still coming for dinner, yeah?'

So Sonya hadn't told him about that and… well, she bottled out of telling him herself and risking his renewed ire. She'd nodded in meek agreement and allowed him to take charge of Tommy while she herself was set to pinning up the notices advertising the upcoming Careers Day for Years 11 and 12.

'It'll keep both you and this fella out of trouble,' Tom had said with a grin, tickling his young namesake's belly and drawing a delighted gurgle out of him. 'The notices are on my desk. Get cracking with that while you dream up a good apology for Christine, eh?'

Taking that as dismissal, she'd collected her notices and went about her task with a will. As a result, she was not far from the English corridor when she heard the sound of voices that escalated only to be cut off by a strangled yelp. Curiosity piqued, she'd left her notices to take care of themselves and headed for the direction of the whimpering—and found herself confronted with the unexpected sight of Waterloo Road's Headteacher literally writhing on the floor, a hand clutching at his crotch. For a moment Mika wondered if she'd be able to contain her splutters; she wasn't so far removed from her own schooldays that she could help but find this hilarious, even while the adult would-be teacher part of her was horrified.

Sue Spark appeared while she was dithering, dropping the pile of exam papers she was carrying and allowing them to float every which way as she flung herself onto her knees at Mr Lowsley's side.

'Twinkle! Twinkle, speak to me! What's happened to you?'

A series of moans and groans was her only response, and Mika was compelled to move forward by the dirty look Sue sent her way.

'Help me get him up and back to his office,' the Science teacher instructed, her blue eyes very hard. 'When I find out who's done this—'

Remembering the sounds of argument, Mika opened her mouth—and closed it again when Simon Lowsley caught her eye with a decided shake of the head.

'They're heathens and hooligans here,' Sue was saying indignantly as they began to make their slow way towards the stairs. 'Absolute hooligans, half of them'll be in juvenile detention before they're much older. This is what comes of poor leadership, having a Head who's not _properly_ qualified—'

'Shut up, Sue,' Mr Lowsley gasped, and Mika realised why.

Christine Mulgrew was bearing down on them, her lips thin to the point of disappearing, and Mr Lowsley made a sound that Mika could not interpret.

'Mr Lowsley,' Mrs Mulgrew began formally, 'Dynasty Barry has something important to say to you.' She brought the Head Girl forward. 'Go on,' she prompted.

Headmaster and Head Girl proceeded to talk over each other.

'Christine, this isn't necessary—'

'I'm dead sorry, sir, I didn't—'

Sue jumped in, cutting them both off. 'What's this, Twinkle? Are you saying _Dynasty Barry_ attacked you? Right in the crown jewels?'

Once again Mika found herself dying to laugh. It was hard to say who looked more mortified: Mr Lowsley or his assailant, and when she caught Christine's eye and realised that the older woman was in like case some of her earlier antagonism began to drain away.

'Well, Dynasty, you've blown it now, haven't you,' Sue was saying, her tone so close to gloating that Mika found her amusement turning swiftly to discomfort. 'We can't have a Head Girl who goes around assaulting people, can we?'

'I—…no, miss,' Dynasty whispered, and Mika stared. The feisty girl who'd shouted at her earlier was gone; now Dynasty seemed almost beaten.

'It's not my place to set your punishment,' Sue went on, 'but I think I know what'll be, h'mmm? Perhaps you should be taking yourself to the cooler to start writing a certain letter?'

'As you said, it's not your place,' Christine said, putting a hand on the girl's arm. 'Dynasty is going nowhere until Simon says so.'

'It's not yours either!' Sue spat between her teeth. 'You'd better pipe down, Christine, because you're on very fine ice as it is and if my dad knows—'

'Don't even _think_ of threatening me, Miss Spark,' Christine interrupted, her voice going very low. 'I've had enough of letting you people push me around—'

'You shouldn't even be here!' Sue had moved away from Mr Lowsley's side, leaving Mika to support him alone. 'People like you shouldn't be allowed in a position of responsibility ever, you're nothing but poison, you destroy people's lives—'

Dynasty wrenched out of Christine's grasp and threw herself on Sue, flinging the Science teacher hard against the wall. 'Shut your face, you manky cow! You don't know anything about Christine, just shut _up—!_'

Mika could only watch open-mouthed as Christine and Mr Lowsley converged on her while Sue burst into noisy tears and Tom irrupted into the melee, demanding to know what was going on _now_.

* * *

**Mr Clarkson's office, 1.15pm**

* * *

Christine was sitting at Tom's desk, her fingers rubbing her temples as she revisited the events of the past hour in her mind. What had she been thinking of, allowing things to escalate so quickly? And how could she have been so stupid as to hire Sue in the first place, talk about making a rod to beat her own back—

And then there was Dynasty. What the hell was she supposed to do with the girl? She appreciated both the fierce loyalty and the affection that had given it birth, but at the moment it was doing neither herself nor Dynasty any favours. That was two members of staff Dynasty had physically attacked in less than sixty minutes, and Christine was certain that Sue, at least, would not rest until she'd seen Dynasty expelled. And she was in no position to defend the girl… Sheer frustration made her groan aloud.

'Are you OK?' Mika sounded apologetic; surprisingly so, but Christine was in no mood for it.

'Fine.'

'Mrs Mulgrew—'

'Mika, I don't want to hear it,' Christine snapped. A tight band had formed around her forehead and she knew from experience that it was only going to get worse. A glass of water and some peace and quiet would help, but something told her that it would be a while before she could have either.

'I just wanted to say sorry.'

'Whatever.' Christine continued rubbing, pinching her lips together as her fingers encountered one particularly tender spot.

A pause.

Then, 'Is that it? Is that all you're going to say?'

Christine dropped her hands, impatience surging through her. 'What do you want me to say? What does it matter? As everyone's been so keen to remind me, I am not Headteacher here any longer—and you've already made it more than clear that you don't care for me as Tom's partner, so … what does it matter?'

'That's why—'

'Just … go away. Now, please.'

A second pause, followed by the sound of a slamming door, and Christine winced as the reverberations rattled around her already delicate skull. She glanced at her watch; it was almost half past one. She should really go to the cooler and find out what Dynasty was doing, or make her way towards hall to await Imogen and Connor coming out of their exam, but all at once she couldn't find the energy to move. And she'd thought coming back as a teacher would be less stressful than being Head!

The door slammed once again, but before she could protest Tom had planted himself in front of her. 'What the hell did you just say to Mika?'

'What _I_ just said?'

'I've just seen her, she was upset! Said she'd tried to apologise and you'd refused to accept it and told her to get lost!'

'I didn't—' She had to stop to lick her lips. 'I didn't mean it that way.'

'What _did_ you mean? She was wrong earlier, but at least she's tried to do something about it—instead of taking her bad days out on everyone else!'

Christine stiffened. 'What's that supposed to mean?'

'You do it every time, to me, to Connor, to Imogen, to everyone, as if it's our fault that your day's been shit. And we've let you, because we've thought that it's better to take it than to have you hitting the bottle again—but fat lot of good that does, eh? With that little stash you've got hiding under the sink!'

Christine suddenly found it hard to breathe.

'No-one's forcing you to "take it",' she said in a brittle tone when she could speak, even as a little voice inside screamed at her to stop. 'If it's that much of an ordeal you can go. I won't be your charity, Tom.'

'Oh, so here we come to the truth of it. People don't _leave_ you, Christine—you force them out by making it impossible to stay!'

She rocketed out of her seat, ignoring the throb of pain that went through her head, ignoring the deeper ache in her heart. 'You bastard. You absolute _bastard_.'

He looked stricken. 'Christine, I—'

She did not wait for more, brushing past him, walking out of his office, down the corridor, out the doors and through the school gates towards the off-license. There was only one true source of help for her now.

* * *

**Mulgrew Household, 4.30pm**

* * *

'Wait here,' Tom instructed the motley crew who had accompanied him home: a sullen Connor, an anxious Imogen, a watchful Mika and a squalling baby who did not understand the atmosphere but resented it nonetheless. 'I'll go in first; the rest of you can give us five minutes before coming in.'

'Just don't make it worse,' Connor said, his glance baleful. 'It should be me, you've already messed up today.'

'That's why it has to be me,' Tom said for the third time. 'Connor, d'you trust me?' There was a long pause before the boy reluctantly nodded, and Tom let out the breath he hadn't realised he was holding. 'Thanks, mate. Look, try not to worry, OK? I'm gonna do my best to fix this. Even got some bribery an' all,' he added, indicating the huge bunch of prickly roses across his lap that had tortured him all the way home. So beautiful, so spiky, so easily bruised… _Like Christine_, he thought ruefully as he prepared to get out.

'Good luck, Tom,' Imogen said, leaning forwards.

'Yeah,' Mika echoed while Connor gave a short nod.

Tom took a deep breath, aware that his heart was thumping uncomfortably hard as he pushed open the front door.

'Christine?'

No answer, and the thumping intensified. It'd only been a few hours, surely she couldn't have drunk herself into a stupor already? Or what if she'd never come home at all— His blood ran cold at the thought of an intoxicated and vulnerable Christine wandering the streets of Greenock or being plied with more drink in some dive of a pub…

'Christine! Chris, love, if you're there, please sing out!'

A pause, then: 'In here.'

The relief that coursed through him quite literally weakened his knees, and he rushed through the house into the kitchen. 'Christine, I—'

She was standing with her back to the island, an empty bottle of vodka beside her, and his mouth went dry.

Her lips twisted. 'I didn't drink a drop of it. Put it down the sink.'

He wanted to believe her. He _needed_ to believe her… and the intensity of that need held him still as their gazes met. Her eyes were clear, their hazel turned in this light to soft grey-green, and he had to swallow hard as he extended the bunch of roses.

She eyed them warily.

'What this?'

'What d'you think? What I said was… inexcusable.'

'No,' she said softly and his heart sank. 'No, it wasn't.' A beat. 'It was true, and I needed to hear it… but not—not as much as I needed to know you'd come back.'

He tossed the roses onto the nearest stretch of worktop. 'I'll always come back,' he said gruffly. 'If you'll have me—'

Anything else he might have added was choked off when she threw herself towards him, and as they clutched at each other he let their embrace do the talking, holding her to him in silent promise to never let her go.

* * *

**Mulgrew Household, 6.15pm**

* * *

'What about Dynasty?' Imogen demanded, her voice cutting across a lull in the conversation. 'It's all around the school she's being expelled.'

'And how you know anything about it when you were all supposed to be in exams I hate to think,' Tom remarked as he tore off another triangle of pizza. 'Dynasty's been suspended for a week. You'll have to take over as Head Girl, Im, and Dyn's damned lucky Simon was so understanding. If Miss Spark'd had her way, Dynasty'd be out on her ear and there's nothing I could've done to stop it.'

'I don't understand it,' Connor said, frowning as he looked up from where he'd been teasing Tommy with a snippet of pizza. 'He was dead nasty last term to all of us, especially Mum, and now… it's like he's had a personality transplant.'

'Yeah, it's been transplanted into Miss Spark,' Imogen said snidely, and Christine noticed that even Mika smirked in response.

Connor, she was glad to see, was looking happier than he'd done all day, and her stomach flipped as she took in his fascination with Tom's step-grandson. Her son was grown up, a married man… how long before he and Imogen left? Her row with Tom had recalled her old terror of being deserted and alone. How long before her son and daughter-in-law had children of their own? And would they stay close and allow her contact with her grandchildren or would they go far away, unwilling to trust her… Her throat closed and she allowed her head to fall forward so that no-one could see her expression.

'That was amazing pizza, Christine,' Mika said, and she glanced up. 'Thanks.'

Christine gave a half-laugh, knowing that the younger woman was trying once again to make amends and that this time she should attempt to meet her halfway. 'Honestly, don't thank me. I only reheated it and those are from Sainsbury's. The only person around here who does any actual cooking is Connor—'

'Oi!' Tom objected. 'What about the spag bol I made last week?'

'The one you _burnt_ last week, you mean,' Imogen said with a cheeky grin. ''Cos you got distracted, didn't you? Was lucky Connor was here to rescue it!'

'Distracted?' Mika echoed curiously and Christine felt her cheeks burn when her daughter-in-law said, 'They get distracted _all the time_. Connor doesn't know where to look, poor guy can't handle it.'

'Thanks a bunch,' Connor grumbled, while Imogen leaned in for a kiss and he grinned and pulled her close, tickling her ribs until she laughed and squealed.

Perhaps she should have another word with them, Christine thought uneasily. She trusted their desire (or Imogen's at least) for university would keep them careful, but it was easy to get swept away and she wasn't ready to be a grandmother yet. It wasn't as if she'd even had much experience of being a _mother_—

'I need the loo,' Mika said, breaking into her thoughts. 'Would someone take Tommy?'

A voice that sounded like her own volunteered, and a disconcerted Christine found herself with an armful of six-month-old baby for the first time in… almost eighteen years, she realised. She'd avoided being anywhere near babies because the sight, the sound, the _smell_ of them revived memories of that first year of hell, of the nights she'd lain shaking from exhaustion after a long day in college whilst baby Connor screamed nearby, the screams a mixed blessing because they alone had the power to jolt her free from her nightmares…

Tommy began to grizzle, and Christine acted on a long-dead instinct and raised him to her shoulder, one hand going to rub his back as she soothed him into contented quiet. Connor and Imogen too had gone quiet, she saw, staring at her as if they'd never seen her before. When Mika returned from the bathroom she handed the baby over and murmured her excuses, heading for the sanctuary of her bedroom.

She sat on the bed for a long time, staring at her reflection in the long mirror, her arms wrapped around her middle. She'd never thought of herself as maternal; motherhood had been forced on her in the cruellest of ways and it was no exaggeration to say that Connor had largely brought himself up. She'd been of little help, more a hindrance. She was lucky he wasn't more damaged than he was.

'Chris?' Tom's voice said gently from behind her.

'I was wondering,' she said in a voice she was determined to keep steady, 'what it would be like to _enjoy_ a baby.'

He came to sit down and put an arm around her. 'Being a normal parent, you mean? Doing it like everyone else?'

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, realising anew that he genuinely understood after his experience with Josh. 'Yeah, that's it. Parenthood's supposed to be a gift, not something that's … forced on you.'

They sat together for a long moment before Tom said softly, 'Maybe it's something to think about.'

So she thought about it. Thought about planning a child with this man, of enduring pregnancy and childbirth with him by her side. Having a child together was a commitment and she knew it was not one he would undertake lightly; a child would tie him to her, permanently.

She pushed that thought aside, but it was there, insistent: _he won't leave if you have his child. _

But could she? She was over forty, a barely recovered alcoholic with an intermittent smoking habit. There were no guarantees and a terrifying number of risks. She'd messed up motherhood once, did she really want to attempt it again at this point in her life?

'Chris?' Tom prompted, and she realised she'd neglected to answer.

She turned her head to look at him, staring hard into his eyes as though by so doing she could read deep into his soul.

'Yeah,' she said eventually allowing a smile to play around her lips, 'yeah, you're right. It's definitely something to think about.'

* * *

_I bet at this point one half of you will have groaned and the other half will have cheered—because that's the general reaction to babyfic or proposed babyfic. However, this isn't all it seems so… trust me? And see you next time!_


	9. Episode 3-1

**Responses below, as per usual. Came 'em coming; ****Mandy****, that's a good suggestion for Sue. I have some ideas anyway but it could work… *cogitates* Although perhaps people just like her being mean? Give us a shout if you want her to stay a baddie or have some redeeming motivation/dark secret etc.**

**Sophie**: Well, here you are! As far as babyfic goes, you'll have to wait and see what happens…

**You6**: *grins* I'm glad you enjoyed it. I could've made it a lot funnier, more ridiculous, but I didn't want to go OTT.

**Mandy**: Mental health problem? H'mmmmm…. and there's the tranquilisers…

**Paisley**: Sue's soooo annoying. She started off OK but turned really irritating. I'm thoroughly enjoying showing that here and developing reasons for her dislike of Christine et al. That's never really addressed in the show—although I suppose it could come. I'm intrigued by hints that Simon could leave? Apparently the actor has said that S9 will be big for Simon… and those recent pics of Christine with the new Head are also interesting. Romance? Christine re-promoted to Deputy Head at least? Darn it, I just want WR to end with her being happy! (She says while plotting to put poor Christine through umpteen wringers, yet again…)

**Caitlin**: *g* Farce or near-farce was what I was going for, so glad you found it funny.

**Loulouberry**: Thanks! :)

**loveistheprotection**: LOL! I assume you like the idea… ! It won't be smooth sailing, though but I'm sure you must have guessed that by now.

**Guest**: Well, there's plenty more Tom/Christine drama to come!

* * *

**Mulgrew Household, 7.15am**

* * *

Christine halted at her kitchen door as she finished fastening an earring, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she observed the apparent family scene before her. For once both Tom and the kids were seated around the table, with Connor and Imogen squabbling over who would get the cream from the top of the milk and Tom ignoring them while he frowned over some papers from school.

Connor, she saw, had gained the milk by the simple expedient of tickling his wife until she wriggled, thus loosening her hold on the bottle. It was refreshing to see her son so happy, his face alight in a way she'd rarely seen. Imogen had been good for him…

'Hey. Aren't you planning on eating breakfast?' Tom asked, jolting her out of her reverie with a meaning look.

'H'mmm. That's if Connor and Imogen have left anything,' she responded mildly as she came to sit down. It was odd; this simple normality was something she'd never known in her adult life, and Connor's bemused expression told her he agreed.

'You look great, Christine,' Imogen offered as she passed the cereal, grey-green eyes taking in Christine's black trouser suit and silky red top, both exhumed from their month-long banishment at the back of the wardrobe. 'What's the occasion?'

She lifted her chin. 'I've decided I'm not going to fade into the background, no matter what Robert Bain and his cronies want. I was Head of Waterloo Road for a term and I think—I really think—I did a damn good job. I'm not going to let them forget it!'

Connor gave the crooked grin that was so characteristically his. 'That's great, Mum, you really look the part, more than Mr Lousy does, anyway.' A pause. 'Are you hoping to get it back?'

'I—' Christine halted, her gaze colliding with Tom's. _Did_ she want the Headship back? All at once she found she was no longer certain; for the first time in decades she had a life outside work and was sober enough to enjoy it. 'Actually, I don't know, Connor. I… do you know what? I think I might try just having a life for a change!'

Her son's grin broadened into a proper smile as he pushed his seat back, pausing by Christine's side for a moment before leaning in and giving her a clumsy kiss on the cheek. 'You deserve it. Coming, Im?'

Imogen nodded vigorously and followed him out, leaving Christine and Tom alone, and she felt a flush rise on her cheeks as he studied her.

'What?'

He smirked. 'You look happy.'

'I didn't realise it was so newsworthy. Pass the milk, would you?'

'When are we going to tell them?'

All at once her happiness fled and she had to force a smile. 'When there's something to say?'

Tom frowned. 'Thought you said the doctor had given you the OK.'

'Oh, he did. He did.' She swirled a spoon through her cornflakes without looking at him. 'Provided I keep off the drink and the smokes I should be fine.'

It was a lie. She hadn't visited the doctor; she hadn't dared. She'd a sneaking suspicion that he'd douse her hopes of getting pregnant with an icy shower of common sense and she didn't need to hear it. Any hope was better than none, she told herself. Tom's delight at the mere possibility of having a child together terrified her as much as it touched her; she could not rid herself of the nagging worry that she would lose him if she could not conceive.

'Chris?'

She was spared the need to reply by Connor's return, dressed and ready for school, his earlier smiles replaced by a glower, and her eyebrows rose.

'What's the matter, son?'

'Imogen,' he grunted. 'She's FaceTimin' Lulu, they're signing away without using their voices … I don't like it.'

'What, the signing?' Tom asked, sounding amused. 'Don't you think it's good for Imogen to have someone she can do that with?'

'It's not that, I don't like _her_,' Connor snapped. 'Ever since she came Imogen and Dynasty have just grown further and further apart… and Dyn bein' away the past week hasn't helped.'

'Dynasty herself hasn't helped,' Tom said carefully. 'She's pushed everyone away, including her mum and her sister, from what Kace's said.'

Connor gave a single glum nod. 'Yeah, _and_ Kevin. Louisa's trying to muscle in there too.'

'With Kevin?' Christine echoed. 'I find that hard to imagine.'

'So would I, if Dynasty'd just give him time of day. Mum, can't you do something?'

'_Me_?' Christine was startled. 'Connor, I can't start interfering in your friends' love lives, it'd be totally inappropriate!'

'She won't to listen to anyone else!'

'He has a point,' Tom said, giving her a look. 'Oh, come off it, Chris. You and me both know that appropriate or not, you and Dyn have a relationship that goes way beyond teacher and pupil. She needs to get a grip before she comes back on Monday or she's going to lose everything. Sue's still on at Simon to expel her.'

Christine could not help stiffening at Simon's name and Tom sighed.

'He's a good bloke, really he is, but Sue's a champion nagger—'

'—And he's too much of a wimp to say no,' Connor finished, his mouth twisting in an expression his mother recognised. '_Please_, Mum?'

She groaned and lifted her hands. 'Fine. Fine, I can't fight you both. I'll go and see her this afternoon, will that do?' They nodded in tandem and she tutted. 'Just… for Pete's sake, don't go expecting miracles!'

'I won't,' Connor promised, shifting from one foot to the other in an agitated fashion. 'Can we go now?'

'You're in a hurry,' Tom observed.

'Yeah, the sooner we go, the sooner I can get Imogen off the phone.'

Christine was aware of a prickle of unease. 'You really don't like Louisa. Why? It's not like you.'

Her son met her gaze squarely as he pushed away from the table. 'She's hiding something. I know. I just _know_.'

The hairs lifted on the back of Christine's neck at that as she and Tom took the hint and finished getting ready to leave. Was she imagining things or was there a subtext there?

* * *

**Bain Household, 7.55am**

* * *

'Well, Simon? Have you decided yet? What I asked you to consider last night?'

Louisa examined her aunt through her eyelashes as Sue sat next to her fiancée. Simon, she saw, looked uncomfortable—but then he often did when Sue started wheedling. Louisa wondered if Sue realised what an idiot she looked, but the doting expression on her Gramps' face across the table explained everything. Sue was the youngest, the most indulged of his three daughters, and she'd always been able to wrap her father around her little finger.

_Shame she's never twigged that trying it on with Simon only annoys him_, Louisa thought scornfully as she watched. _But then, Auntie Sue has never been terribly _bright—

'Sue, you need to let this go,' Simon was saying in between swift gulps of _Alpen_. 'Dynasty's been punished. She's a good student who's just been through a nightmare; you can't blame her for not being completely herself.'

'So it's OK for her to viciouslyattack us?' Sue sounded petulant instead of genuinely annoyed. 'Simon, I don't understand you. It doesn't matter what happened to her last term, she's nearly eighteen, isn't she? Old enough to grow up, regardless!'

Most unexpectedly, Louisa found herself speaking up on Dynasty's behalf—if only to annoy Sue. 'D'you know what happened to her?'

'Oh, I know about her brother, of course. It was terrible and tragic, but it's still no—'

'She was raped,' Louisa cut in with the ease of long practice. 'By the guy who killed Barry. Imogen Mulgrew told me and she should know.'

'_Louisa_!' her grandfather objected. 'Do you think this is an appropriate conversation for the breakfast table?'

Louisa glared. 'It was Sue who brought it up, not me!'

'Yes, well, you were the one who mentioned rape. Now, be a good girl and pipe down. Your aunt and uncle are trying to have a professional conversation.'

'A professional conversation that involves you, Louisa,' Sue said, simpering across the table in a manner that made Louisa want to behave as though she was eight instead of almost eighteen. 'Because we all know how much you want to be Head Girl, don't we? And naturally, if Dynasty Barry is deprived of her badge… who better than you to take over?'

'Apart from the minor detail that in that case it'd go to Imogen,' Simon remarked.

Sue made a polite but dismissive noise. 'Don't be absurd, Twinkle. She's totally unsuitable.'

Louisa's eyes switched back to Simon, her heart rate picking up. It was no secret in the family that her desire to be Head Girl bordered almost on obsession; her failure to secure that post at her last (very expensive and extremely exclusive) school was a primary factor in her decision to transfer to Waterloo Road for the rest of her schooldays. She'd assumed that with Simon installed as Head it would only be a matter of time before she gained that elusive badge.

But Simon was saying, coolly, 'She's done the job while Dynasty's been away.'

'Yes, but… come on, Twinks! That's just for a few days, it's not the same as doing it always! She's not… well, she's not _capable_, is she?'

'Because she's deaf, you mean?' Louisa snapped before she had time to think, a lifelong reflex kicking in. 'What about Emily? _She's_ Head Girl at Dene Hollow.'

Sue waved that off.

'That's different, darling. It's a special school, isn't it? It isn't the same at all. It would be sheer cruelty to force it on Imogen in a place like Waterloo Road. I'm only thinking of her, you know—and you. I know how hard it's been having your twin get the job while you haven't even made prefect.'

Louisa stiffened as Sue once again rubbed salt in an old wound. Sue herself had been first prefect and subsequently Deputy Head Girl at the boarding school they'd both attended, and she seemed to relish reminding Louisa of it every five minutes. Then Simon added insult to injury by saying that Imogen or no Imogen he still wouldn't give her the job at Waterloo Road.

She slammed her cup down on its saucer, ignoring her grandfather's spluttered reproaches in defence of her late grandmother's most cherished china. 'Why, Uncle Si? Don't you I think I can do it?'

Simon glowered at her from under black brows. 'Look, Lulu, I've told you before. I don't like you calling me that. Secondly, whether or not you can do it is irrelevant. Did you and Sue never stop to think of that while you collected your 'evidence' of Christine Mulgrew's supposed nepotism? How'd you think it'd look, if I made you Head Girl and _our_ connection came out? My credibility as a head teacher would be shot to bits!'

'Oh, Christine,' Sue sniffed. 'I can't imagine why you're worrying about _her_.'

Simon's shoulders were tense. 'It's bloody hard not to when my whole school still looks first to her!'

'That's because you haven't been assertive enough, sweetheart. You need to put your own stamp on the place, let the kids and Christine Mulgrew know you're the boss now.'

'Do I?' There was a strange note in his voice that made Louisa stare at him. 'I don't know, Sue. I don't know if I want to.'

'Simon!'

He'd risen to his feet. 'Yeah. The longer I'm in this job the more I start questioning my right to it—'

'But you were the one who said—'

'That was then. I… my head was all over the place, you know why.' He ran a hand through the shock of dark curls that clustered on the top of his head. 'I'm sorry, Robert. I'm not bailing on you, but… this whole thing? It leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Sour. As if it's not _Christine_ who's been guilty of nepotism—' He threw his napkin across the table and stalked out.

Louisa's gaze slid back to her aunt.

She was not surprised when Sue promptly burst into tears and her Gramps immediately began to console her in a ritual that had been familiar to Louisa since early childhood. It was a moment of epiphany; Auntie Sue had never had to stand on her own feet, there'd always been someone supporting her from below. Then and there, Louisa determined that would not be true of _her_. She'd get what she wanted—but she'd get it her own way, not Sue's way.

* * *

**Barry Household, 8.15am**

* * *

'Come on, love. You'll have to head soon and you ain't had brekker yet.'

'In a minute, Mum. I'm not hungry anyway.'

'Aw, come on, Kace.' Carol's tone turned imporing. 'I'm worried about you, kiddo. This is an exam year for you an' all and you need some grub in yer—'

Realising that her mother wasn't going to give up, Kacey unlocked her bedroom door. 'I had somethin' earlier, when I came in from me run.'

Carol looked dubious. 'You sure?'

Kacey gave a decided nod, and her mother sighed. 'Fine. Are you happy to go in by yerself?'

'Mum!'

Carol grinned. 'Daft question, weren't it? 'Course you're OK to go in, you're a Barry. Come on.' She put a hand on Kacey's shoulder and guided her down the stairs just as the doorbell rang, and Kacey stiffened automatically. That sound had rarely presaged anything good in her experience.

'Well, look who it is!' Carol greeted, sounding unsurprised as she opened the door to reveal Harley Taylor and Lula Tsibi. 'Swots, you two are, comin' for Kace at this time instead o' leavin' it til the last possible minute.'

Lula looked reproachful. 'Don't you think education is important, Mrs Barry? Where I come from, Waterloo Road… it is like paradise,' she said as Carol rolled her eyes. 'You cannot imagine… and Kacey is our friend. Harley and me, we do not like to see her come in alone, like some person no-one likes.'

'She means a Billy-No-Mates,' Harley said with exaggerated patience. 'That ain't Kace, though.' He grinned at her. 'Come on, see if you can keep up this time!'

Kacey winced. They'd come the day before but she'd followed them so slowly that to all intents and purposes she'd walked to school alone.

'I am looking forward to today, it should be _interesting_,' Kacey heard Lula say as she shrugged into her coat. 'Mrs Abernethy told us yesterday, for today we are not to raise our hands once, but once! How that will work?'

'It'll be a laugh,' Harley chortled. 'The good teachers'll have everythin' under control, but the crap ones…. ' He sniggered. 'Can yous imagine what them'uns in Year 10'll be like with Miss Spark? Darren Hughes'll be made up!'

'We'll find out,' Kacey reminded him through her tightly wound scarf. It was still January and bitterly cold outside. 'Miss Spark has us all for Science first double 'cos Mr Duffin is going to that curriculum thing with Mr Clarkson. I 'eard 'im say so the other day.'

Carol tried to look stern. 'Well, don't you be giving that girl any trouble, eh? Can't be a walk in the park havin' to teach brats like you lot.'

'_Or_ Darren Hughes,' Lula commented with one of her wide smiles, and Kacey grinned, suddenly looking forward to the day as they trooped out of the house and down the road.

It had been difficult, being the only Barry at school under the circumstances, but Kacey had been warmed by the silent sympathy she'd received from the other kids and staff alike. Miss McFall, Mrs Budgen and Mrs Mulgrew had been their usual selves while Mr Clarkson had tried (and failed, given the frigid weather) to distract everyone by putting on a girls versus boys football match. The only exception had been Miss Spark, who'd treated Kacey with icy coldness whenever they'd happened to come across each other, but as she only taught Kacey's class on Fridays that was less problematic that it might have seemed. All the same, as Kacey listened to Harley and Lula's speculations on what the day would bring, she found herself hoping that the joint class with Year 10 would give Miss Spark something (and someone) else to think about. She had enough crap to deal with right now without _that_.

* * *

_**Next time: **__Simon tries to make his mark, Imogen flips out, and the joint Years 10/11 Science lesson is anything but productive._


	10. Episode 3-2

_Thanks for the responses last time, folks, it was amazing! Interesting to see what people think of Sue both here and in the show—huge range of opinions. Personally, I'm wondering if that moment with Hector at the end of 9b is going to factor in Simon's ultimate departure in any way so… I'm intrigued for what's coming, not least to see how Christine copes with her demotion. That was one of the reasons I decided to follow canon with this story._

* * *

_**Reviews, then!**_

_**Faith**__: I'm not sure it would matter even if he did know, given she's his daughter. Although… h'mm, you've given me an idea. I'll have to play with it first!_

_**Paisley**__: Thanks!_

_**Jessiekat89**__: Christine knows the odds are against her, but the question is whether it's as much of an issue as she thinks… ;) As for Louisa, more on that next time!_

_**Guest**__: I usually only update once a week, but inspiration has flowed unusually freely this time. _

_**can't log in**__: Sue on magic mushrooms? That is genius. Instead of tranquillisers, perhaps._

_: Sue's not too pleasant in this next bit, but I do have sympathy with her. I think Simon was right—she's probably better suited to a more academically inclined school. I've had experience of trying to teach in a school that's not academic and it can be soul destroying if you're that way inclined yourself. You really need to rethink why (and how) you're doing it. _

_**Sue Spark**__: um, oops? LOL._

_**AmyOncer**__: Seems like he's already gone, as far as current filming is concerned!_

_**Fliss**__: Thank you! And thanks for sharing about Simon, that's interesting (as well as annoying because it's still what, three months before it's on again?!)._

_**Guest**__: More on Sue coming up next! Whether it's 'redeeming' or not will be for you to decide, I think. _

_**Loveistheprotection**__: You should enjoy this next bit!_

_**SweetiesNCupcakes**__: Thanks! I'm starting to develop more of a backstory for Sue in my head, but if you've any dark secret ideas you'd like to share/see pursued drop me a line and I'll think about it._

* * *

**Staff Room, 8.30am**

* * *

Tom was in a good mood as he followed Simon Lowsley into the staffroom for that morning's briefing, his eyes automatically seeking out Christine, seated as usual between Audrey and Maggie with Sonya perching on the arm of the latter's chair. The other teachers huddled in clusters throughout the room; at this time, the heating was very reluctantly coming to life and the room often took hours to reach a comfortable temperature.

Simon, he saw, seemed rather pleased with himself. Sue, seated alone across the coffee table from Christine _et al_, was anything but if her long face was anything to go by. He looked towards his stepdaughter, who'd forged an awkwardly tentative friendship with the young teacher, and raised questioning eyebrows, but Mika's only answer was a shrug. Then Simon started talking about his big idea for the day and Tom found there was no time for extras.

'Some of you might have seen the coverage in the _Times Ed_ last week about raising classroom participation by banning the raising of hands. Yeah? It was in one of the supplements—' As the staff murmured, Tom's heart sank as he scoured his own memory of the articles in question. 'Well, we're gonna give it a go, because hey, anything's worth trying to raises standards, yeah?'

This time the murmur was unquestionably dubious. Tom could see how Simon's shoulders slumped at the lack of enthusiasm.

'Come on, folks, it'll be great! This is how it works. Instead of the kids putting up their hands, the idea is that they call out answers and generate discussion amongst themselves. Or, you lot can steer things by inviting people to answer. They'll all have to pay attention because anyone can be picked on, see?'

'But that requires advance planning on our parts,' Audrey objected while George Windsor groaned. 'We haven't had the chance.'

'It'll be chaos,' George predicted gloomily. 'Sorry, Simon, no can do for me. I'll stick to tried and tested if you don't mind.'

'Oh, come on, George, you can't do that!' Simon protested. 'This is only gonna be a proper trial if we're all in it. C'mon, give it a try? Sue? Surely you did this last year—'

Sue visibly wilted, but with the battery of eyes on her she'd clearly decided she had to stand by her man, regardless of her true opinions. She gave a bright nod. 'Yes! Honestly, people, it's amazing! The kids really enjoy it, they find it so—so _liberating_!'

A profound and sceptical silence was the only response, and as Tom began to mentally file this under Great In Theory But Utterly Impractical in Real Life he was startled when his lover spoke up.

'For what it's worth, I'm in,' she said. 'I'm all for getting those kids who don't usually contribute to speak up and if this works—' She lifted her shoulders. 'Well, it's only for one day and it's worth a go.'

'Thanks, Christine. Thanks a million.' Simon sounded pathetically grateful. 'Anyone else?'

One by one the majority of the other staff agreed, and Tom had to struggle to repress a smug smile. Last term to the contrary, he found Simon to be a decent bloke, by and large, but he couldn't help appreciating this demonstration of the staff's continued loyalty to their former Head.

'George?' Christine prompted, glaring at her old friend, and Tom grinned. Christine's management of George Windsor was a wonder to behold. 'Come on, you're not going to sit this one out, are you?' Her lips twitched. 'Because otherwise we might start wondering if you're up to it—'

'Fine. Anything to keep you happy,' George snapped, folding his arms. 'But if the school tumbles down around our ears, it's you I'm blaming, Chrissie darling.'

She was unmoved.

'Blame away. I can't be held accountable for your poor classroom management.' The bell went at that point and Christine rose. 'Are we done?'

She still had difficulty using Simon Lowsley's given name, Tom noted.

Simon nodded. 'Yeah, unless there's anything anyone wants to add?'

A series of rustlings as the staff rose to their collective feet was his answer, and Tom grinned again when the other man began to move towards the connecting door. He'd a feeling Simon Lowsley wasn't enjoying being Head of Waterloo Road as much as he'd anticipated—

'For God's sake, Tom, turn it down,' Christine muttered as she passed him. 'You're grinning like a loon.'

'Sorry.' He tried to moderate his smirk, but it was sabotaged when she gave a small but unmistakable wink. 'Lunch? My office?'

She looked surprised. 'Will you be back in time?'

'Bloody well better be,' he grumbled. 'Curriculum meetings are like watching paint dry. Having lunch with you, on the other hand—'

'Get a room, you two, and stop blocking the traffic,' George complained as he tried to get past. 'At least last term the rest of us didn't have this rubbed in our faces.'

Christine gave Tom a second wink and pivoted on her heel. 'What's the matter George, getting a little green?'

'Sod off, Chrissie.' George stalked past them, slamming the staffroom door in their faces, and Christine and Tom exchanged a look before bursting into laughter.

Next it was Sonya.

'Well done, boss! That's put 'im in 'is place an' all.' The secretary looked so wistful as she joined them that Tom gave Christine a meaning nudge; he'd a feeling that Sonya would appreciate the opportunity to vent.

As he'd hoped, she took the hint, putting a hand on the shorter woman's shoulder. 'Fancy working your magic on the photocopier for me?' When Sonya nodded, visibly brightening, Christine gave Tom a nod over her shoulder as they departed, and Tom turned to retrieve his own bag from where he'd dumped it.

And found the one other remaining occupant of the staffroom watching him with narrowed eyes, her arms folded.

'You and Christine are up to something,' Mika remarked. 'Going to tell us?'

'Nope,' he responded. 'None of your business.' He glanced at the door. 'Haven't you got somewhere to be?'

Mika gave a dismissive wave. 'Yeah, shadowing Sue.' She scoffed. 'Like I'll learn much from her, I think _I_ can manage a class better than she does.'

Tom raised an eyebrow. 'Easy to say, my love. Easy to say. Fine, make yourself useful.' He pushed his briefcase into her arms. 'There's a whole pile of schemes of work in there. Sort 'em by subject, would you?' He turned to boil the kettle.

For several moments the only sounds were the bubbling of the water and the rustlings of the papers Mika was sorting, underscored by her melodious humming.

'It's serious, you and Christine,' she observed at last, and he stiffened, recalling her behaviour of the previous week.

'Yeah, and no trying to mess this up, Mika,' he warned, pointing the flat end of his teaspoon at her. 'Christine and me…. Well, we _fit_. Like I haven't experienced with a woman since… since your mum,' he ended softly.

Mika's eyes were very bright, their blue glistening. 'She's nothin' like my mum.'

'No,' Tom agreed, remembering Izzie. 'She's not, but that's OK. She's—she's amazing.' He gave a sheepish grin. 'I feel like a kid near her. I thought that part of me died when your mum did.'

'OK.' Mika's expression was very soft. 'As long as you're happy, that's all me and Chlo care about.'

'I am.' He thought of their secret resolution, their secret hope, and all at once he had to share it with _someone_. 'We're gonna try for a baby.'

Mika laughed. 'Very funny.'

'I'm not kidding.'

His adopted daughter stared. 'You're crazy, you've only been with her for how long?…And let's not forget, the woman's a alcoholic! How d'you know she won't fall off the wagon again and leave you literally holding the baby?'

Tom's lips compressed as he grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her to a seat. 'You don't know what you're talking about. D'you know why she drank?'

Her eyes round, Mika shook her head.

Tom had to take a deep breath, to prevent himself from screaming at her. 'She was raped. Connor's a product of that rape.' Mika's softly tanned complexion bleached to a sickly sallow tone before flushing. 'Yeah, exactly. Most women would have aborted, wouldn't they? Wouldn't _you_?' He glared and her gaze dropped. 'That's what I thought. Christine'd be the first to admit her failings as a parent, but what you're implying is absolutely _not_ one of them.' A pause. 'She and her kids are my family now, just as much as you and Chlo. If you love me—'

She swallowed. 'OK, OK, keep your hair on. I'm sorry.' She hesitated, then, 'Connor's really…? And she's kept him his whole life, she's never—?'

'Yup.' Tom folded his arms. 'For better or for worse, that boy's only ever lived with his mother.'

Mika sighed. 'It still seems dead risky to me. She's how old, forty? Forty-five? Even if yous get pregnant the chance of complications is sky high. What if something goes wrong?'

'Then we'll deal with it, _together_. But we're not gonna borrow trouble!' He sat on the table opposite and reached for her hand. 'Please. I don't need your support, but I'd like to have it… especially as I'd like to marry her, eventually. If she'll have me.'

He was surprised when his self-possessed elder stepdaughter hurled herself at him.

'You're my dad, Tom,' she whispered into his ear. 'Better than our real dad ever was… I love you, no matter what. So yeah, if you're sure—'

His smile stretched from ear-to-ear when he pulled back. 'Thanks, love. I appreciate it. And I'm not ignoring your concerns,' he added more gently. 'We're not stupid, we know the risks, but nothing ventured and all that.' He glanced at the clock; it was nearly nine. The bell would be going at any minute and he had a sudden desperate need to speak to Christine before going to his Year 12s. 'I've gotta head; can you finish those papers for me?'

She nodded and he grinned and ran.

* * *

**Mrs Mulgrew's room, 9.05am**

* * *

'Best behaviour, you lot,' Christine warned her Year 10 tutor group as they began to file out on their way to Science. 'Remember, I'm just up here, h'mm? If I hear any trouble I will intervene and whoever's responsible will end up feeling _extremely_ sorry for themselves, trust me. Understood?'

Her form group murmured and grumbled in response and she shook her head in exasperation, shuffling the piles of exam papers on her desk. She'd done the best she could; it was up to Sue now, and in the meantime Year 8 would be upon her at any moment.

'Come on, hurry up!' she heard Tom call, and she glanced up to see him at her classroom door. 'You're like a pack of snails, what is this, some kind of reverse race?'

Taking the hint, Year 10 moved with a little more alacrity and Tom entered, kicking the door shut behind him before crossing to her, his hands going to her shoulders and his eyes fixing on hers.

'What's wrong?'

His mouth quirked. 'Just thinking. You do want this, don't you?'

''Course I do.' She licked her lips. 'Where's this coming from?'

'I don't want to pressure you into this, after all, you're the one who'd need to do the hard work!'

'Tom, do you really think I'd let you pressure me into this? _This_? Really? Idiot.' She leaned forward to kiss him gently. 'It's just … what if we can't? What if we're too old? If _I'm_ too old?' Her pulse was loud in her ears as she posed the question.

'We'll just accept it's not meant to be,' he said philosophically, and some of the tight ball of twisted anxiety inside her began to relax. 'But there's nothing stopping us from having a hell of a lot of fun in the meantime, is there?'

She laughed. 'You're worse than the kids.'

He grinned. 'Yeah, and you love it. Talking of the kids—'

'What?'

'You should tell them,' he said in a rush. 'Or at least Connor.'

Momentarily she closed her eyes, trying to picture all the ways that conversation could go. 'That'll be awkward.'

'Better than Imogen's lectures on contraception,' he reminded her, his own eyes twinkling, and once again she found herself laughing. Despite everything, she'd done more of that in the past month that she had in years.

'_Fine_, I'll do it.' Her stomach flip-flopped at the mere thought, but there was no time for anything more for her Year 8s were pouring in and she was acutely aware of twenty-seven curious gazes. 'You'd better go,' she murmured.

'See you at lunch.' A final wave, and he was gone.

Christine turned back to Year 8, who'd seated themselves with a remarkable minimum of fuss and gave them an approving smile. 'Right, then. Your exams!' She split the pile of papers into two. 'Lauren, Justin, hand these out, will you?'

She leaned back against her desk as they obeyed, trying not to worry about that promised conversation with Connor. If only she could get out of it. If only she could lie…

But pregnancy—or the lack of it—was one thing that could not be hidden indefinitely.

* * *

**Mr Clarkson's room, 9.20am**

* * *

'Sorry I'm late,' Mr Clarkson called as he entered his room. 'Only got a few minutes with you, folks, 'cos I've got this curriculum meeting to get to. I'm trusting you lot to look after yourselves while I'm gone, but Miss Boston's next door if you need anything, yeah?'

'I'm sure we'll cope perfectly well, sir,' Louisa said in her smooth way, and Imogen inwardly marvelled. She was starting to think of Tom-and-Christine as a single unit which made him family in her eyes (if not Connor's, just yet) but even she would not dare to speak to him like that.

Tom didn't seem to mind. 'Glad to hear it. Oh, one thing before I go. Mr Lowsley wants us to try something new, so for today there's to be no hands. Shouting out allowed,' he added with a grin, and Imogen's heart sank as several people took immediate advantage and Tom's answers turned piecemeal and—from her perspective—utterly incomprehensible, lacking either explanation or context.

'Yes…. No… Shouldn't think so… Very funny, Jack … What's that, Kevin?'

Kevin's voice asked something from where he sat halfway down the classroom, but as far as Imogen was concerned he might as well be speaking in Mandarin.

'Yeah, if it works,' Tom was saying. 'Apparently it's the latest and greatest in education, so who are we to argue—' He shrugged and the class laughed.

By this time Imogen's dismay had turned to frustration laced with anger. In defiance of the new dictum, her hand shot up. She was making a _point_, she told herself fiercely.

'Imogen,' Tom said, sounding surprised. 'No hands, remember?'

'Will I just go home then?' she demanded, glaring at him. 'Cos why should I bother staying at school today, eh? 'Cos it's just gonna be a waste of time!'

'Imogen—'

'It's just for one day,' Connor said, leaning across the aisle. 'You can cope for one day.'

'And what if it's not one day? What if Mr Lousy decides to make it permanent, h'mm? I'll be screwed, totally screwed! It's hard enough takin' part in class discussion as it is, without hands to help…!' She came to stop, horrified to find that her eyes were filling. It was times like these that she hated being the only deaf pupil at a hearing school. It was times like these that she felt positively alien.

Tom was looking troubled. 'I'm sorry, Imogen.' He came closer, hunkering down. 'Sorry, love,' he repeated, his tone softening. 'Should have realised how this would affect you, but… it slipped my mind.'

Imogen's throat was too tight for words, but Louisa spoke up.

'It's all right, sir. You're not a teacher of the deaf, are you.' The insolence was only lightly veiled, but for once Imogen did not care. She sent Louisa a grateful glance, and the other girl's lips curved. 'Perhaps I could help?'

Ignoring Tom's presence, Imogen signed, 'How?'

'_That's_ how,' Louisa signed back. Aloud, she said, 'If the staff agreed, I could interpret for Imogen during discussion.'

'Would you? Could she, sir? It'd make such a difference!'

Tom was looking unsure. 'Yeah, but she's here to learn, not act as learning support. If she's doing that for you, she can't take part herself.'

Imogen stiffened. 'Well, you lot should've thought of that, shouldn't you? Either way, one of us is going to get left out!'

'Shut up!' Connor hissed across the aisle. 'What are you trying to do, wind him up?'

'Thanks for your support!' Imogen hissed back before deliberately slanting herself so that she couldn't see him. 'Mr Clarkson, if you don't let Lulu do this, I'm telling you, I'm walking.'

'If you do, you'll be walking into the cooler,' Mr Clarkson warned. 'You're Head Girl this week, remember.'

Imogen was just about to tell Tom what he could do with the Head Girlship when she recalled that she was simply holding it for Dynasty—Dynasty, who'd been suspended. If she too was to get into trouble during her tenure as acting Head Girl, serious questions would be asked about Tom and Christine's prefect appointments the previous term. No matter how angry she felt, she wouldn't do that to either of them.

She subsided, her head moving in a single nod.

Tom sighed. 'Good.' He hesitated, then, 'Louisa, if you're happy to do that then… be my guest. I'll let the rest of the staff know.' A pause. 'And thanks; it's good of you to offer.'

Louisa beamed, her blue eyes sparkling as she shook her hair away from her face. 'It's no problem, Mr Clarkson. I'm only being a friend. Isn't that what friends do?'

Imogen took advantage of that to send a triumphant glance towards her husband: _See! I was right!_

His answering glower told her what he thought of _that_.

* * *

**Miss Spark's room, 10.15am**

* * *

'If you could just settle down and concentrate on your worksheets,' Miss Spark was saying a touch desperately for the fifth time, and Kacey and Harley rolled their eyes at each other. Why did the woman think it would work now when the last four attempts had failed?

'She's a numpty,' Lula declared in disgust as she flipped over her own worksheet. 'Look, she is doing nothing to make them behave—' She flinched and twisted, one hand rubbing at the back of her neck. 'Darren Hughes, if you that again I will kill you!'

The Year 10s started to jeer while Darren leered, and Lula made a sound that could best be described as a growl and launched herself off her stool.

Kacey and Harley made a concerted grab for her. Lula could be unpredictable, as both knew to their cost.

'C'mon, don't do this,' Harley murmured. 'It's only Darren an' that, you know they're muppets.'

Kacey nodded, taking Lula's other arm. 'Yeah, just ignore 'em. Not worth it.'

'Ooooh, an' who do you think you are, Kacey Barry?' Darren asked. 'Got a bit above yourself, 'ave you? Decided yer better than everyone else? Look at yer, you can't even be bothered to dress right, you look like you just rolled out of bed, like lads do.' A pause. 'Oh yeah, that's right, I forgot. You're not a proper girl, are you. You're not a boy either, you're just a freak!'

Kacey folded inside, his words biting deep. She didn't need to be reminded of how insignificant she was, how useless she was. She was just a waste of space but it'd been Barry who'd died. Barry who would have chewed Darren into itty-bits for saying such a thing to his sister. Once upon a time Dynasty would have jumped to her defence, but there was no Dynasty at school today and at home… she'd taken to locking herself in her room and burying herself in her schoolwork, suspension or no suspension. There was no-one to stand behind and Kacey was frail and weak, exposed to the world.

'Miss, are you gonna let him talk like that?' Harley demanded. 'Did you hear what he said?'

'I—' Miss Spark faltered and the class grew utterly still, the Year 10s vibrating with suppressed excitement and the Year 11s watchful, ready to defend one of their own. 'Darren, you really shouldn't have said that, should you?'

'But miss, _look_ at her!'

'Look at yourself!' Lula shouted. 'You're even worse, you sit there and drool over the girls with your mouth open, you are a pervert!'

Miss Spark lurched into action at that.

'Right, I've had it with you, Lula. That's the second time in five minutes you've yelled across the room and I won't put up with it. Cooler!'

Kacey was on her feet before she had time to think. 'Miss, you can't, she was just bein' a mate, standin' up for me an' all! If you're gonna send anyone to the cooler it should be me!'

Year 11 exploded at the mere suggestion and Miss Spark picked up a long ruler and cracked it across her bench, causing the apparatus sitting there to wobble ominously.

'_Shut up!_ Why can't you behave like human beings instead of nasty horrid animals who won't sit down and _listen_? In fact, I've had dogs behave better than you do, d'you hear that, you lot? A _dog_ behaves better than you, although I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, given what's in this room. Let's see, foreigners, check, kids in care, check, oh and let's not forget, a _Barry_—' She broke off when the door swung open.

'I think you should stop right there,' Mrs Mulgrew said in her iciest tones, and Kacey could have sobbed with relief. She was shaking from Miss Spark's onslaught, and a glance at her compeers showed that they were looking equally stunned, including the Year 10s. The English teacher transferred her glare from Miss Spark to the class at large. 'It's nearly Break. Take it early—and believe me, this isn't the last you've heard of this. Go!'

They didn't need to be told twice, grabbing their things and streaming past their former Headmistress in dead silence. Kacey, Harley and Lula hung back to the end.

'Are you OK, Kacey?' Mrs Mulgrew asked, and Kacey nodded, refusing to meet the older woman's eyes.

'It wasn't Kacey's fault,' Lula said, her hands warm on Kacey's arm. 'It was Darren's fault, he started it, and then _she_—' Her voice started to rise as she jerked her head in Miss Spark's direction and Mrs Mulgrew lifted a finger.

'That's enough. Take Kacey to Mrs Budgen and get her a drink, it looks as if she needs it. And Lula?' The trio halted. 'I don't want this spread across the school, do you understand me? If any of the others start to talk I'm relying on you three to choke them off.'

'We'll try, miss,' Kacey volunteered in a small voice. She was only too happy to do so; she felt physically ill at the thought of the lesson's events becoming common coin throughout the school.

Mrs Mulgrew's features relaxed and she gave them a short nod. 'Good. I'll catch up with you later.' A small movement ushered them out, but Kacey turned to look over her shoulder as the classroom door shut behind them and her chin lifted at what she saw.

Miss Spark was sobbing openly and Mrs Mulgrew's rigid posture told Kacey all she needed to know. Some of the tightly coiled anger and hurt inside began to dissipate; one way or another, she knew that justice would be done.

* * *

**Soooo... next time: Christine and Sue clash, Connor reacts to his mother's news, and Simon spills more than he should. **

**Don't forget to let me know what you think!**


	11. Episode 3-3

_I am so, _so_ sorry for taking so long to update. Call it a combination of manic kitchen renovations closely followed by a bronchitis style cold, ick. I don't recommend._

_Reviews then…_

_**Guest of honor**: LOL, thanks, glad you think the story lines here are better than the show's!_

_**Amber**: Ooooh… intriguing re Simon. I'm kinda wishing the summer would hurry up and go so that we find out what will happen next!_

_**dreamer**: *g* Well, I didn't set out to write a babyfic so who knows!_

_**sammy**: Lots of different info about Simon! What to believe…?_

_**Loveistheprotection**: Christine's response coming right up! I hope you enjoy it!_

_**Paisley**: Yeah, but the mean is so much fun to write. Like doing Snape in 'Harry Potter'._

_**Guest**: Now do you *really* expect me to tell you? (re Christine getting pregnant)_

_**Jessiekat**: Connor's response coming up!_

_**Fliss**: Re Hector and Sue: I think Hector kissed Sue to make her realise she wasn't immune to him either, as a way to get her to lay off Nikki. As for whether anything will come of it, who knows? I do have a theory though that the events of the last couple of episodes heavily foreshadow what's coming, so… I wouldn't rule it out._

_**privateschooler**: Sorry, I ditched the full stop because FFN seems to think you're a website and deletes your name! Writing Christine and Sue together is great fun; Sue may find she's not going to get it all her own way after all, Simon or no Simon!_

_**Secretperson**: LOL, thanks. I think…_

_**gemma**: I haven't forgotten the tranquillisers. Must find a way to work them in!_

_**Sue Spark**: LOL!_

_**faith**: Yeah, I'm torn with Sue. Sometimes I really do feel for her and sometimes (most of the time) I want to strangle/slap her. And watch out for Kacey!_

_**msn**: Sue deserves to get into trouble!_

_**chantelucy**: Well, there is more Kacey coming, but not right away, I'm afraid._

* * *

**Miss Spark's room, 10.40am**

* * *

'What happened?' Christine Mulgrew's tone was neither kind nor unkind, but her tone was that of authority which expected to be answered, and Sue was too upset to resent or gainsay it.

Eventually she was able to stammer, 'They just… they went crazy, they wouldn't listen to anything, especially the Year 10s. The Year 11s weren't as bad, or not until that Lula started stirring.'

Christine gave her a long look.

'Lula, hmm? That doesn't sound like her. She's passionate and easily angered, but she's too desperate for an education to deliberately cause trouble. What set her off?'

Sue sniffled and sobbed and gasped as she tried to remember. What _had_ set Lula off? She'd been so busy trying to marshal the class as a whole into some kind of order to pay attention to any pupil in particular, and her shoulders shook as she realised she couldn't answer Christine's question.

'Here,' the older woman said briskly, pressing a wad of tissues into her hand. 'Use them. I'm trying to help you, you know. We haven't got off on the right foot with everything that's happened, but at the end of the day, I appointed you. If you're floundering, that makes you my problem.'

Sue blew her nose hard, the sound reverberating around the lab, and raised watery blue eyes to Christine.

'Even—even though you're not H-head anymore?'

Christine's smile was grim. 'It doesn't switch off as easily as that. Sit,' she added, gesturing towards the bench. 'Tell me what happened. Don't leave anything out because I assure you, I'll be speaking to Kacey _and_ giving my form a stern talking-to. I'm sure they were involved but… they weren't on the receiving end of that tirade of yours when I came in, were they?'

A tide of heat raced up Sue's cheeks and she dropped her eyes. Christine's sigh was loud in the quiet room.

'Sue, the kids … they can be challenging, I'm not denying that. Believe it or not, I've done my share of crying in the loos after a lesson that's gone disastrously wrong, and anyone who says they haven't is lying—or made of stone. But they're _kids_, and the kids here… you must never forget that Waterloo Road is the closest thing to a safe, secure environment that many of them have. They've put their trust in us and we need to honour it, do you understand? _We're_ the grown ups, we need to act like it.'

'They wouldn't be _quiet_,' Sue said in a tearful rush. 'All I wanted them to do was sit quietly and do their worksheets, how hard was that to understand? But they kept yelling and when I told them off they said it was all Simon's fault with that—that _bloody_ no-hands thing… and then a gang of Year 10s started messing around and Lisa knocked Lenny off his stool. By the time I'd sorted them there was some kind of row going on between Lula and Darren, and Harley and Kacey got involved and—and I don't know what happened! I just—I just _lost_ it!'

Christine's eyebrows went up. 'And in the process said some … pretty unpleasant things they're going to find difficult to forgive.' She paused, her lips pursed. 'You need to apologise if you want to make this right.'

'_Me_?' The word flew out of Sue's mouth before she'd time to consider, all her natural pride revolting. 'But I'm a teacher! I shouldn't have to apologise to _them_!'

'No?'

'No!' Sue's cheeks scalded again at the mere thought.

'Hmmm. OK.' Christine pushed herself to her feet and Sue eyed her warily. 'Fine. As I said, you're the grown up. You're a role model for these kids, whether you realise it or not, and if you _want_ them to think it's OK to look down on people because of their nationality or class—'

'I never said that!'

'Didn't you?'

All at once, Sue's dislike for Christine came flooding back, overwhelming nascent gratitude. The woman was standing there pontificating as if she was better than everyone else when the entire school knew just how far from the truth that was.

She lifted her chin. 'You misunderstood.'

Christine's gaze hardened. 'Oh, _did_ I? I think you'll find the kids also … misunderstood. I'm telling you, Sue, I won't let this drop. You're clearly having difficulties, and as you're on probation some would say that's the school's fault for not providing enough support. You're a science teacher, you know as well as I do that anything that combusts, sparks or explodes needs to be closely supervised, it's just too dangerous for everyone if you're really struggling and you're trying to do an experiment, for example.'

She held up a finger when Sue tried to protest. 'Ah-ah. I haven't finished. Here's the deal: you apologise to those kids and present yourself to Simon Lowsley and Tom Clarkson with the full story and a request for support and training or I'll be encouraging Kacey to make a formal complaint—_with_ my support—directly to the Board of Governors. If it comes to that, I'll weigh in with my suspicions about your father's machinations regarding the Headship. You're not the only one with connections.'

Sue stiffened. 'Is that a threat?'

Christine's smile was almost pitying. 'No. It's a promise.' She leaned in close, causing Sue to rear back, her nose pre-emptively twitching against the alcoholic fumes she half-expected to encounter, and the older woman gave a brief laugh that held no humour. 'You can't help being insulting, can you? Never mind. Just a word of warning before I go: you have until the end of today—four, to be precise. I'll be speaking to Mr Clarkson then and if I haven't heard… well. Let's just say you may regret the day you took me on, Miss Spark.'

Her heels clipped loudly on the floor as she left, and Sue twisted the hankies she still held until they ripped into fragments. She'd no doubt that Christine Mulgrew was more than capable of carrying out her threat—no, her _promise_—and if that happened her dad would never forgive her. There was a limit to what even he would agree to conceal and she'd pushed the boundaries enough as it was. And as for Simon…. She shuddered. This new Simon was so eager to appease Christine that she didn't think she could count on his support either. Not for the first time, Sue began to wish she'd never heard of Waterloo Road.

* * *

**Mrs Mulgrew's room, 11.40am**

* * *

Connor's heart sank as he glanced from the English A'level marking scheme to his wife's mock exam, and noted that she had hit point after point with unerring accuracy. He didn't need to see Imogen's frown as she wrestled with his own paper to know that he hadn't done anywhere near as well, and he sent his mother a look that was anything but filial. _What_ had possessed her to set them to marking each other's papers like this?

'Here,' Imogen said, sliding his paper under his arm. She looked nervous and he understood why when he saw the letter encircled next to his name.

'You gave us an E!' He'd known it was bad, but not _that_ bad. 'You've done it wrong, you must've. Do it again.'

His wife was looking annoyed. 'If you must know, I was trying to be nice. I bet your mum or any other teacher would knock off even more, and you know what? You'd deserve it. Didn't you do any revision?'

'You know I did!'

'I know you _said_ you did, but I didn't stand over your shoulder, did I?'

Connor glanced across the table, automatically seeking sympathy from Kevin, an exchange of rolled eyes that expressed their mutual incomprehension of women. But Kevin wasn't paying attention, he was too busy grinning at something Louisa had said as she went through his paper, and rage boiled through Connor as he caught her knowing smile.

'What're you staring at?' he barked. 'What're you doin' here anyway, why aren't you sitting with, oh, let's see, Rhiannon or Jack or Ryan?'

'Connor!' Imogen protested as Louisa's eyes went wide. She poked him in the side, her finger so stiff that it hurt, and leaned over to hiss in his ear, 'Pack it in. Louisa's helping me today, remember?'

'You don't need her, I can help!'

'Yeah? When you can't even remember the alphabet? God knows I've shown you enough times, but you're never interested, are you?'

'I signed at our wedding, didn't I?'

'Yeah, _once_, for a special occasion. Big deal!'

His mother appeared between them. 'There's a lot of noise coming from this corner. Is there something I should know about?'

They both talked at once.

'It's not me, it's her—'

'He's bein' a pillock!'

'_Enough_!' The bell rang and his mother gave them her dirtiest look before turning to dismiss the class, her hand going to jerk Connor back into his seat when he tried to move. 'Not you, or you, Imogen. I want a word.'

Connor glowered at his wife, thinking of the precious moments of free time that would be lost while his mother told them what she thought of them. He wouldn't be surprised if she sent them to the cooler, and then he'd be screwed out of the time in the library he desperately needed for that history coursework.

Once the door had closed behind the last stragglers—Kevin and Louisa in this case—his mother started in.

'If you two _ever_ start a disagreement like that in my class again you'll find yourselves in detention for so long you'll forget what free time looks like, do you understand me? I don't care whether you're my son and daughter-in-law or not, you keep your marital spats for outside lesson hours. That's the adult thing to do and you're supposed to be adults now, remember?'

Connor grunted a response while Imogen apologised. She was always better at smoothing things over than he was; even as he watched, the tense line of his mother's shoulders relaxed and she gave a brief nod.

'Fine, you can go—and count yourselves lucky I'm not sending you to the cooler!'

'We'll make it up to you later,' Imogen promised, glancing towards him and Connor took the hint and nodded—but when he went to follow her out, his mother called him back.

He turned reluctantly. 'If this is about the exam—'

'It's not.'

He waited for her to explain, and when nothing came he prompted, impatiently, 'What is it? I've gotta do some research to get McFall off my case.'

She sat down in the seat Imogen had vacated and indicated his own. 'Sit with me a minute, son. Come on, relax. You're not in trouble, I promise.'

Connor obeyed, alarm bells ringing in his mind. 'What's wrong? Why're you doin' this, shouldn't you be teaching?'

Her smile was wry. 'My timetable still hasn't returned to what it was before I was Head, and I know you're free this lesson. You don't need that research for this afternoon, do you?'

He shook his head. 'It's not due for a fortnight but you know Audrey … Mum, spit it out. You're worrying me!'

'OK.' He watched as she took a deep breath. 'OK … Connor, you like Tom, don't you? You like him being part of our lives?'

He stared. ''Course I do, you know that. Not that it matters, as long as you're happy.' He paused. 'You are happy? He hasn't done somethin'—'

'No. No! Tom's … he's great, Connor. Sometimes I look at him and I can't believe that he really wants to be with me, you know? After everything…'

'Hey, he's lucky too,' he interrupted, forgetting his earlier annoyance in the automatic need to reassure his mother. 'You're amazin', Mum, not everyone could do what you've done.' He looked at her curiously, a smile starting to tug at his mouth. 'What's this about, you two getting married or something?'

'Would you mind if we did?'

He shrugged. 'Course not, Tom's sound. _Are_ you?'

She licked her lips and the alarm bells ringing in his mind grew louder. 'No. No … we, er, we just thought we'd like to try for a baby.'

The words tumbled out so quickly that it took a moment for Connor to process them into auditory shapes that made sense. When they did, his jaw dropped.

'You—you—_what_?'

'I know, I know!' His mother raised a finger, as if forestalling a protest from him. 'You're think we're crazy. You think we're too old. You think we haven't been together long enough—'

'Mum, shut up!'

She stopped so abruptly that he might have laughed at any other time, but her eyes were wide and she was nibbling at her fingernail. His heart missed a beat as he saw that this wasn't some ill-conceived joke, some wind-up—she genuinely wanted this. If she and Tom had a child together it would be loved and wanted from the moment of its conception on.

The realisation was like a kick in the stomach, knocking the breath out of his body and driving all rational thought from his mind.

'Connor?' His mum put a hand on his arm and gave it a shake. 'Connor, say something!'

'That's great, Mum,' he heard himself say. 'So long as you're happy, that's the main thing.'

The hurt within him twisted on itself when her smile turned radiantly wide; the smile that he'd seen so rarely in his eighteen years.

'Oh, Connor.' She pushed to her feet and pulled him close, his forehead resting on her shoulder. 'Thanks, son.'

The entity that seemed to have taken over his body pulled his lips into a grin as he drew away. 'Aw, Mum, don't get soppy on us now!'

She gave a short laugh and dashed quickly at her eyes; 'soppy', it seemed, had been the operative word. 'OK. OK, I'll get a grip, I promise, I just… Thanks, Connor. Really. You don't know what this means.'

'I… yeah. Can we do this later?' He pointed to the door. 'Audrey's research?'

'Of course. Can't have you getting in trouble with Audrey, can we! Go on, son, I'll see you at home.'

Somehow his feet carried him to the door, his hand reaching out to it when his mum called, 'Connor?'

He turned, that rictus grin still in place.

She hadn't noticed. She was so overwhelmed with joy that he'd given the OK on this kid with Tom that she hadn't even noticed he was acting. His mum, who was such a proficient actress herself that she could spot it in others a mile off…

'Yeah?'

'I love you. You know that, don't you?'

All he could manage was a nod before he making good his escape, through the door and down the stairs. The stunned shell that had insulated his mum from his true reaction was starting to fracture as hurt began to bubble into anger threaded with doubt and fear.

Wasn't he good enough? After all they'd been through?

What if she had a kid and Tom didn't stick around?

What if she started drinking again?

He couldn't stand by and watch his mum's alcoholism destroy another kid's childhood as it had destroyed his. He and Imogen would need to take the kid, they'd have no choice, and good-bye to all their plans to put his past behind them and live their own lives—

His emotions burst out of him in a strangled roar as he hurled his bag down the corridor, turning blindly to kick the nearest kickable thing: the door to the cooler. It flew open, banging hard against the wall, and revealing Darren Hughes doing his best village idiot impression.

But Darren was not alone. Mr Lowsley was staring at Connor, an unreadable expression in his dark eyes.

'Darren, get back to class,' the new Head ordered. When Darren obeyed, he turned back to Connor. 'As for you, mate, I think we need to have a chat, don't you?'

* * *

**Cooler, 12.15pm**

* * *

If Simon had expected Connor Mulgrew to head for a chair he was disappointed. The younger man shoved past him to lean against the wall before slowly sliding down it, his fingers threading through his short black hair.

Simon was disconcerted. 'Er, wouldn't you be more comfortable over here?'

There was no reply. After mentally humming and hawing for several moments, he went to sit next to Connor on the floor.

'Hey,' he said softly. 'What's up? Want to talk about it?'

'Not to you,' came in muffled tones, and Simon winced. He deserved that.

He sighed and rested his head against the beige-painted wall, and wondered what to say. There were serious bridges to be built here, and this was a golden opportunity—but first he had to get past Connor's instinctive (and perfectly understandable) mistrust.

There was a way. He knew it; he'd always known it. He'd known it all through those nights he'd lain awake next to Sue, guilt searing his blood. If only he'd kept his trap shut. If only he hadn't walked straight into Sue's trap, comprised of a hellish mixture of her own fears and insecurities.

'I get it,' he blurted before common sense and professional standards could exercise their brake over his tongue. 'About your mum.'

'Yeah, right.' Connor lifted his head. 'You're gonna tell me some sob story about some stupid row you had—'

'My mum was an alcoholic too,' Simon interrupted before he lost his nerve. 'She… she died six months ago. I'd just got back from leave when Michael Byrne resigned.'

Connor's eyes were like circles. He swallowed; Simon could see how his Adam's apple bobbed up and down.

'Was it … cirrhosis?'

All of Simon's muscles relaxed and now it was his turn to swallow convulsively as he tried to get his emotions under control.

'Cancer.'

There was a pause before Connor asked, 'Did she never try to get clean?'

Simon gave a bitter laugh. 'Yeah, sure. Three times that I can remember. The last one was five years ago, after my dad died. She tried then for a while but then… _bam_! She fell off the wagon and never got back on. Was a slippery slope after that.' Out of the corner of his eye he could see Connor flinch, and he understood. _God_, how he understood. 'Hope your mum's stronger than mine.'

'Me too.' Connor was picking at the sleeve hem of his cardigan. 'Was that why—?'

'I was such a berk last term? Yeah. I, I can't apologise enough, Connor. When I found out about your mum it was like she'd turned into mine, you know? And I found myself taking out my anger against _my_ mum on yours.'

Hostility flickered in Connor's gaze. 'You're bloody lucky she didn't go back to the bottle, thanks to you.'

'She's no pushover,' Simon agreed, remembering how unflinching Christine Mulgrew had been the day she sent him from Waterloo Road, and they shared an awkward grin of mutual understanding. 'How's—how's she finding _this_?' He gestured expansively, taking in the entire classroom and what lay beyond.

Connor shrugged. 'Like I'd tell you. If you want to know, ask her yourself.' He was still picking at his sleeve hem, pulling at threads of wool. 'What made you change?'

Simon eyed him warily, wondering how much to divulge, how much was appropriate to divulge… before he remembered who Connor was. Chances were the boy had grown up learning where and when to keep it shut. 'Your mum sending me packing was a wake-up call. I didn't like what I turning into, so I decided to get help. Talk it through, you know?'

Connor nodded.

Encouraged by his silence, Simon continued. 'I went to a self-help group, for relatives of addicts. All addictions, not just alcohol. That's where I met Sue—Miss Spark.' Now that he'd started, Simon found he couldn't stop, appropriateness be damned. 'She was there because of her sister, Louisa's mum.'

'Louisa? Louisa _Fox_?'

Simon caught himself with a mental _Shit_, but it was too late. He couldn't leave it at that, he'd already said too much. 'Yeah. Forgot she was in your form.'

'Louisa's Miss Spark's niece? And you're engaged to her, that's what Dynasty says.'

Simon decided to brazen it out. It was common knowledge in the staffroom anyway. 'Yeah.'

Connor studied him for a long moment before clambering to his feet. 'Do us a favour, sir. Tell her to lay off my mum, right? Or… I'm sure Mum'll be interested in what you've said.'

Simon turned cold inside. Louisa's mum was the proverbial skeleton in the closet in the Spark-Bain family, and he was certain that Louisa remained ignorant of the truth. Once Connor started talking it would start to spread, juicy gossip like this always did…

He got to his feet. 'Are you trying to blackmail me, Mr Mulgrew?'

The boy seemed sardonically amused. 'No more than you did last term … Mr Lowsley. Don't worry, sir, I won't say anything.' A bell rang. 'Can I go? My bag's still out there.'

Simon's jaw was clenched too tight to allow him to speak at that moment, but he followed the younger man into the corridor, watching him gather his things and shove them into his satchel. It was a reminder of the start of this episode.

'You never did say what'd got you in such a state.'

Connor glanced back at him over his shoulder as he swung the bag into its proper place. 'It was nothin', sir. Just exams. I let it get on top of me.'

'If you need any help revising—'

He did not miss the roll of Connor's eyes as he turned. 'Sir, you don't need to try buttering us up. I said, didn't I? I won't say anything. I'm used to keepin' secrets.' He hesitated, his head jerking towards the stairs. 'Can I—?'

Simon nodded and Connor left, taking the short flight of stairs two at time, and a line indented between the Head's brows. There was definitely something going on there. Perhaps a word with Tom Clarkson was in order? If Connor's issues could be sorted he had a feeling they'd _all_ sleep much sounder at night.

* * *

_I don't know that I'm too happy with the second half but ... over to you! Did you expect that? ox_


	12. Episode 3-4

_Thanks for the reviews, they're great! I love to see what people think of this AU, especially as it becomes increasingly so—although I'm planning on using several ideas from 9B in the next handful of 'episodes' but obviously with my own spin._

_**loveistheprotection**__: Thanks! Yeah, the Connor-Simon relationship is one I'll probably develop further for reasons that will become clear. _

_**guest of honor**__: LOL, glad you're enjoying it. No, no plans to kill off Sue. She's much more valuable where she is!_

_**Hannah**__: You'll find out some of Sue's response here; more coming. _

_**Paisley**__: Exactly. I initially wrote Simon out of the first story because I'd set him up as a villain and the more we saw of canon-Simon the harder it became to write him like that. But then towards the end of the first story the explanation for Simon's behaviour occurred and I wanted to write it, so…!_

_**Sue Spark**__: You might find yourself in more pain before you're done! :P_

_**SweetiesNCupcakes**__: Thanks! Will need to do more Sue/Christine, I think. It's a fun dynamic to write. _

_**Niamhemiliee**__: As you see, usually every week/nine days or so. This is a slightly longer chapter than usual!_

_**AmyOnce**__: Thanks :)_

_**Jessiekat89**__: What, and give everything away at once? No chance!_

* * *

**Mr Clarkson's office, 2.00pm**

* * *

Tom was frowning over an email he'd found in his inbox on his return from the curriculum meeting when Christine's head appeared around his door.

'Lunch?'

He glanced up from his laptop. 'Bit late, isn't it?'

'I waited for you. Did some departmental work during lunch and it's my form's P.E. afternoon—not that they deserve it after the stunt they pulled today,' she ended grimly. She indicated the seat in front of his desk. 'So—?'

'Yeah, course. Come in. I wanted to talk to you anyway.'

Her smile faded as she sat down, her hands freezing over the top of her sandwich box. 'That sounds…very official.'

'H'mm.' He flipped his laptop around so that the screen was facing her. 'Know anything about this?'

Her eyes widened as she scanned it. 'It's from Sue!'

'Yeah, and coherency isn't her strong point, it seems. I gather you know something about it. Want to translate?'

He watched as her gaze narrowed as she read it again. 'I'm not seeing any indication that she's sent it to Simon.'

He looked at her. 'Simon?'

'Yeah.' Her smile turned catlike. 'I warned her. I told her that she could tell you and Lowsley about what happened this morning or I'd take it further. I didn't really expect her to do it so… _interesting_. Our Miss Spark must have a few dirty secrets herself, h'mm? Perhaps something her father doesn't know or care to have enter the public domain.'

Tom blew out an exasperated breath through his nose. 'Christine. Please. _What happened_?'

She explained and he groaned, rubbing his hands up his face. 'God, we really messed up with her, didn't we? Poor Kacey, that's all she needs.'

Christine's lips thinned. 'I'm worried about her, Tom. Can't you do something? And don't say you can't,' she added. '_You're_ the one who pushed me into going to see Dynasty, and we all know that Kacey thinks you're the best thing since sliced bread. As for Sue… well.' Once again, her smile was catlike and Tom experienced a prickle of alarm as he remembered Christine's first term at Waterloo Road.

'Chris, for pity's sake don't start stirring. She's still Bain's daughter and Simon's fiancée, keep out of it for your own sake.' She didn't answer, but her deliberate shifting on her seat told him she didn't agree. 'Please, love,' he tried again. 'We've got enough on our plates, haven't we?' A thought occurred to him. 'Did you tell Connor?'

She beamed. 'Yeah, he said it was great, he just wants me—us—to be happy. He's such a good boy, Tom,' she added softly. 'I don't know how it happened, because God knows it's not because of me.'

Tom sighed deeply, hating what he was about to ask. 'Are you sure he meant it?'

Christine's smile faded. 'What?'

'When he said it was great?'

Her stance became defensive. 'What are you saying? That my son's lying?About _this_?'

'Apparently he kicked the cooler door in. The caretaker's gonna have a look.' He hesitated. 'There might be damages payable.'

He didn't think she'd heard the last bit; she was blinking dazedly.

'When?'

'Just after twelve, Simon said.'

'Simon?' She gave a harsh laugh. 'And you believed him?'

'I'd no reason not to,' Tom said softly.

'No reason?' Christine pushed her chair back from the desk and rose, leaning across in a manner that some might find threatening. 'No reason, _really_? This _is_ Simon Lowsley we're talking about!'

'Yeah, and the guy's done nothing but try to make amends since he got back here!' Tom pushed to his own feet. 'Chris, I don't know what was going on with him last term, I'm not condoning what happened then, you know I'm not, but he's made it clear he's sorry. How long are you gonna carry a grudge for, eh?'

They glared at each other, bright blue locking with hazel, until Christine's shoulders slumped and she turned away. It was all the incentive he needed to go to her, pulling her into a hug.

'Hey, it's OK,' he murmured into her hair. 'Whatever it is, whatever's going on in Connor's head, we'll deal with it.'

'He said he thought it was great,' he heard her whisper. 'Why lie about it? He knows how much I—' She broke off and he remained quiet, willing her to feel the love and support of his embrace. After a moment she pulled away, one hand dashing at her eye. 'Maybe it wasn't that at all. His mock results have been a _long_ way from stellar. He and Imogen had a domestic over it—right in the middle of my lesson, if you please.'

Tom kissed her quickly, glad to see that she looked brighter, less stricken. 'There you go. Did you give them a stern talking-to?' He tried to keep his face straight and received a narrow-eyed look in response, together with a stiff poke in the stomach.

'Tom Clarkson, are you making fun of me?'

He allowed his eyes to go owlishly wide. 'Me? Wouldn't dream of it. Otherwise I'd be the one getting the stern talki—_ouch_!'

'Serves you right,' Christine told him austerely, but her eyes were sparkling and he found himself grinning once more—like a loon, as she'd said that morning. She glanced at the clock. 'Nearly time for the bell and Mika's in with me next lesson. Do you have her folders there, by the way? I promised I'd look at them.'

Tom handed them over. 'Here you go. You two getting on now?'

She flipped the red one open. 'So-so. She doesn't treat me like a scarlet woman any more, if that's what you mean. Why?'

'Oh, nothing,' Tom said quickly, his mind flashing back to his conversation with Mika that morning. 'Just wondered. Didn't want to have two of my three favourite women at odds, did I? And Chlo's not here to give Mika a kick in the pants when she needs it.'

'H'mm. I'm sure you remedy any problems yourself—with a stern talking-to!' she finished, eyeing him over the top of Mika's folder.

He guffawed. 'Maybe I'll just leave it to you, you're so good at it. Hey,' he grabbed her arm as she turned to go, 'you still going to the Barrys' this afternoon?'

She nodded. 'Yeah. I promised, didn't I?'

'Take Kacey? Offer her a lift or something and see how she's doing.'

'Sure. See you at home?'

He nodded. 'Looking forward to it. Pizza night, isn't it?'

'Anything you like, provided I'm not cooking it!'

He was still grinning when the door closed behind her, but the grin faded as he returned to his laptop and Sue's still-open email. The young woman was clearly in trouble and Tom found that he was starting to feel sorry for her. It difficult to pinpoint why; Christine's rendition of the morning's events did nothing to cast Sue in a good light, but he couldn't escape the feeling that Sue was nearing the end of her tether, and as an NQT the school owed her professional support. Personally he knew she was becoming increasingly isolated in the staffroom as the old hands rallied around Christine; only Mika had shown her anything resembling friendship. Maybe that was the way forward, he mused. Put them together for training? It would make life easier for the senior staff too, if they only had to co-ordinate one professional development session a week instead of two. One way or another something had to be done—or there would be trouble for more than simply Sue.

* * *

**Waterloo Road Car Park, 3.25pm**

* * *

Christine was leaning against her car boot, watching carefully for Kacey Barry. Students streamed past her, including Connor and Imogen, but now was not the time, even when Imogen cast her a puzzled look and jerked her head towards Connor, stalking forward with his hands buried deep in his jacket pocket. Christine could only shake her own head—and then she had to move when she spotted Harley Taylor and Lula Tsibi.

'No Kacey?' she called.

'She's comin',' Harley explained. 'Miss Boston wanted a word, she shouldn't be long.'

'OK, thanks.' Christine smiled at them. 'Off you go, you two.'

'We are waiting for Kacey, miss,' Lula said reproachfully. 'We can't just _leave_.'

'To walk her home?' Two black heads nodded in unison. 'I'm giving her a lift, I need to speak to Dynasty. She'll be fine, I'll look after her.'

'Someone needs to, miss,' Harley said fiercely. 'She's been well upset all day, ever since that cow laid into her this mornin'.'

'Miss Spark should be _sacked_,' Lula supplemented with an emphatic gesture. 'She—'

Christine lifted a hand. 'That's enough, Lula. It can't have been easy for Miss Spark either, you know. How would _you_ like having to teach your lot plus Mr Duffin's class?'

The pair exchanged a look. Harley turned sheepish, but Lula's chin lifted in that regal way she had.

'I would not speak to _anyone_ as Miss Spark spoke to us this morning. It was _wrong_. I would find some other way. There is always another way, one simply has to find it.'

Christine sighed, knowing as she did something of Lula's background. Lula _would_ find another way, she believed, but she'd a feeling that Sue Spark had never suffered as Lula had; she'd never had to develop the steely self-reliance and unflinching determination that was such a core part of the Congolese girl's strength.

'Here's Kace anyway,' Harley commented, nodding towards a solitary Kacey coming down the few steps that lead into the car park. 'Hi, Kacey! Over here, Mrs M wants yer!'

Kacey approached slowly, her eyes wary, and Christine's lips pinched thin in renewed anger against Sue.

'You're proper lucky, mate,' Harley greeted. 'Miss is gonna give you a lift, she says.' He turned big eyes on his former Headmistress. 'Can't you give us one an' all?'

Christine laughed. 'And get lectured by Mrs Budgen and Miss McFall for depriving you of exercise? Nice try, but you're on your own for this one.'

Harley grinned. 'Worth a go, innit.'

'Miss is right,' Lula announced, rolling her eyes in Christine's direction as she dragged Harley off. 'You are getting lazy. You spend too much time in front of the TV, or with those games you bought with your money. You will get fat and unhealthy. In my country—'

Christine turned to Kacey, still smiling in amusement. 'She keeps him on the straight and narrow, doesn't she?'

Kacey glanced at her from under her eyelashes and gave a twitch of the shoulders. 'Guess so.'

'Come on,' Christine said, deliberately gentling her tone. 'Let's get you home, eh? I'm coming to have a word with your Dynasty,' she added when Kacey's brow crunched in confusion.

The girl nodded and stood like a statue while Christine unlocked the door and slid into the driving seat, urging Kacey to do likewise with a gesture. If she'd hoped that Kacey would open up once they were in the privacy of the car she was disappointed, for she remained resolutely silent, and it was Christine who started the conversation once they hit the coast road.

'How're you doing after this morning?'

Kacey's head was turned away and for an endless moment Christine thought she wasn't going to answer.

Then, 'Fine.'

Christine heaved a quiet sigh. This was like getting blood from a stone. 'Did… have you heard from Miss Spark again today?'

That did cause Kacey to glance at her, sideways, like a startled horse.

'No.'

'No?' Christine echoed.

'Should I have?'

'To _apologise_, Kacey. What she said this morning was… it was unforgivable, a teacher isn't allowed to talk to her pupils like that!'

The girl resumed her averted position. 'I've 'eard worse, miss. Bein' a Barry an' all, you get used to it.'

'That's no excuse!'

'Just leave it, yeah,' Kacey said, weariness clear in her tone. 'Honest, miss. I appreciate it, honest I do, but I don't want a fuss. Don't tell me mum, either, please?'

Christine was genuinely startled. It had never occurred to her that Kacey might not want to take things further, that the younger Barry girl would not share her sister's thirst for justice—or revenge.

'_Please_?'

'Fine,' Christine conceded. 'Fine, if you don't want to take it further, that's your choice. Just remember, you know where to find me if you change your mind, h'mm?'

'I won't,' Kacey said. 'It's not important, it's not worth it. Miss Spark, she's just a kid, she knows nothin'. I can't 'ate her for that, can I.'

'That's … very mature of you, Kacey.' Christine turned the car into the cul-de-sac where the Barrys lived. 'Very grown up. Not many people of your age would see it like that.'

'Wouldn't they? Maybe it's just I know better, don't I? After Barry … stupid stuff, little stuff, doesn't matter no more. Me brother's dead. Gettin' angry, that's not gonna bring 'im back. It's not gonna put things right.'

'No.' Christine parked the car outside the Barry home and turned to face her pupil, her hands still resting on the steering wheel. 'No, it's not going to bring Barry back, you're right there, but that doesn't mean—it doesn't mean you cut yourself off from life, Kace. You can't protect yourself forever by cutting yourself off from people or feelings or whatever … however you do that, whether it's through drink or drugs or whatever, it's not the answer. Believe me.'

'I'm fine, miss,' Kacey said in the toneless voice that was starting to worry Christine deeply. 'I'm not drinkin' or doin' drugs, I'm not that thick.' The older woman winced, but Kacey didn't seem to notice. She undid her belt and opened the door. 'Does me mum know you're comin'?'

'No, do you want to tell her?'

Kacey gave her a long look. 'Nah, it'll be fine. An' if you can get Dyn out of her room… Mum'll be that made up she won't care anyway.'

'Well, I'll try,' Christine promised as she vacated the car and locked it. She gestured towards the door. 'Go on, I'll follow.'

* * *

**Barry household, 3.45pm**

* * *

'Dynasty?' Christine knocked gently on the bedroom door. 'Dynasty, it's Christine. May I come in?'

The door opened a chink. 'What're you doin' here?'

'I want to talk to you. Let me in, love. Please?'

Dynasty allowed her in and Christine suppressed a sigh. The girl stood awkwardly, her hair clipped out of the way, and refused to meet Christine's gaze. A glance about the room told the older woman what she'd been doing: books covered every available surface, and one corner had become home to a veritable mountain of scrunched up paper.

Christine indicated it. 'Doing coursework?'

'Tryin' to,' Dynasty growled. 'I'm wastin' me time. Was trying to do that research project for McFall, an' it just gets worse an' worse. The drama's no better, I'm supposed to write a short play, but I'm rubbish at that. An' then there's that Hamlet coursework for you—!'

Christine gathered a pile of textbooks together and dumped them on the floor before taking the empty space they'd left on the bed. The springs bounced beneath her as she sat down, and she closed her eyes against an unexpected wave of weariness.

'Miss? Christine, are you OK?'

'Yeah.' Christine opened her eyes and smiled at Dynasty, who was kneeling before her, blue eyes anxious. 'Just been a long day. I'm looking forward to that tea your mum said she'd send up.'

Dynasty bounded to her feet with all her old energy. 'I'll get it right away, you just sit tight!' She went to her door and bellowed, 'Mum! Get Mrs Mulgrew's tea up, would yer?'

A yell drifted back and Dynasty turned with a grimace. 'Be right back. Gotta get it meself an' all.'

She left on the word and Christine leaned forward to lift a ball of scrunched up paper that lay at her feet, her fingers smoothing out the crumples. It was an attempt at her own coursework she saw, and a quick read told her it was a good start. Why had Dynasty rejected it? Plenty of students would have been happy to submit that effort as a final piece and be done with it—Connor included, she feared. She glanced up as the door opened to admit Dynasty, armed with a pair of monster mugs wafting steam.

'Here, black tea, innit?'

Christine accepted hers with a nod and took a sip. It was hot and strong and coursed through her, lending its warmth. 'What've you been doing, Dyn?' she asked softly, indicating the paper on her lap. 'This is _good_. Why did you toss it?'

The girl shrugged. 'Wasn't good enough, was it?' She began to chew her lip. 'I've changed me mind, miss. I wanna do me exams like everyone else an' that means I need to pull me finger out. I want to go to uni, I want to make somethin' of meself, I wanna put all—all this behind me and forget it 'appened.'

'I understand that. I do, you know I do, but… this isn't the way, shutting yourself up like this. You can't escape this kind of thing, Dynasty. You bring it with you. You learn to live with it.—and you let the people who love you help you along the way. You're not alone.'

Dynasty's head fell forward. 'No?'

'No. Come on, talk to me. What's going on with you and Kevin, h'mm? Why are you pushing him away?'

'I'm scared!' Dynasty blurted. 'Crap happens when people get close to us Barrys, and Kevin's got too close, me mum treats him like he was Barry come back sometimes, an' he's not! I don't want 'im as me brother, I had a brother and he's gone. And then when he was made Head Boy…!'

'Don't you think he can do the job?'

Dynasty scoffed. ''Course 'e can, he's Kev, yeah? He's brilliant, he can do anythin', go anywhere. When he's done with his exams the world's gonna be his oyster, everyone says so. He's not gonna want to be stuck with me, is he?'

Christine put her empty cup on the floor. 'That's for him to decide, not you.' She paused. 'He's a good lad, Dynasty. He's loyal and he loves you—but you can't expect him to wait forever if you keep pushing him away. The same goes for your mum and Kacey; they're hurting too and if you keep shutting them out you may find that one day you'll turn around looking for them—and it'll be too late.'

Dynasty was studying the carpet, picking at the tufts. 'That's what happened to you, isn't it?'

Christine groaned and allowed herself to slide down beside the girl. 'Yeah. You could say that. It wasn't quite the same; my parents had already said they'd have nothing to do with me and Connor and … well, by the time I thought I'd like things to be different, I'd like Connor to have grandparents, it _was_ too late. For them and for me.'

'I'm scared,' Dynasty repeated, looking up at Christine through her lashes. 'I'm scared I'll always be like this.'

'So do something about it,' Christine advised. 'Take the first step. It'll be hard, I won't pretend otherwise, but let them in. Your mum and Kacey need you—Kacey, especially. Ask her about school today, h'mm? And Kevin, he's been in a sticky position since he was appointed Head Boy, thinking you didn't want him.'

'An' Imogen?' Dynasty asked with a touch of aggression. 'She still hangin' out with that Louisa?' Christine nodded, and Dynasty's lips pressed together in a thin line before she blew out a gusty sigh. 'I have to get over meself, don't I? She kept calling and I wouldn't take her calls an' now she's stopped.' She hesitated before adding, 'She's still sendin' messages, like. She hasn't forgot me. She's a good mate, even when I've been crap.'

'She is. You just need to give her a chance and then Louisa won't have it all her own way!'

Dynasty grinned. 'Too right, miss.' She shuffled closer to Christine. 'Thanks.'

Christine put an arm around her. 'I'm always here—but please, Dyn, no more attacking teachers, h'mm? Otherwise I'll have to come down on you like a ton of bricks, just because people at school know we're close. Things have changed and we need to be careful, understood?'

Dynasty nodded solemnly.

'Good. See you on Monday? Unless you're coming round this weekend?'

The girl looked uncertain. 'Can I?'

Christine laughed. ''Course you can. Come on, come over on Sunday. Give you a chance to patch things with Imogen before school.'

'Yeah. Yeah!' Dynasty was looking happier by the minute. 'I'll start right away, with me mum and our Kace.'

'I'd better go, then, hadn't I, and let you get started.' Christine groaned internally as she thought of home and what awaited her there: another difficult conversation with Connor. 'Up you get, Miss Barry, and give your old English teacher a hand up.'

Dynasty complied with a smirk, her eyes dancing, and relief flooded through Christine as she regained her feet. Dynasty would be fine, she knew it. One way or another, she'd muddle through.

If only she could be so sure about her own family…

* * *

**Mulgrew Household, 4.30pm**

* * *

'Aren't you doin' your homework?'

Connor turned to look at his wife from his flopped-out face-down position across their bed. 'I'll do it later.'

'You always say that. Come on,' she tried to coax, pulling at his hand. 'Let's do it together, yeah?'

'There's no point. You'd just rocket on ahead and I'd be left trailing behind, as usual.' He removed his hand from her grasp to beat his pillow and flip it round. 'I think I'm wasting my time doin' A'levels.'

Imogen rolled onto the bed beside him, her large eyes fixed unblinkingly on his. 'Connor, what's wrong? And don't tell me nothing, you haven't been yourself all day. Are you worried about your results?'

For a moment he nearly allowed her to think that. She'd try to reassure him about their shared future and such would be her conviction, her absolute certainty, that he'd find himself believing her and for a while all would be well. And then he remembered his mother's announcement; all their hopes for the future could be so easily shattered, and Imogen didn't even know yet… He swallowed hard, struggling against the wave of panic that seemed to grip him by the throat.

'Con?'

He had to lick his lips twice before he could say, 'It's Mum.'

Her eyes widened. 'What? How'd you mean?'

'When she kept me back earlier?' She nodded. 'She wanted to talk about her and Tom.'

His wife's features split in a wide smile and she sat up. 'Are they getting married?'

'That's what I thought, but Mum says not… no, it's worse.'

Imogen frowned. '"Worse"? Connor, I thought you liked Tom!'

'I did! I do! I mean, he's miles and miles better than Byrne was, yeah? But… _he_ left, didn't he? Mum loved him but he left anyway. What if Tom doesn't stick around? And this _is_ worse, 'cos—' He broke off as they heard the front door slam and his mother call his name.

Connor squared his jaw and remained where he was, ignoring the look of confusion on Imogen's face.

The call came a second time.

'Connor, would you come down here? I need to talk to you!'

Imogen looked at him questioningly.

'She wants to talk,' he said hoarsely.

'You'd better go,' his wife murmured. 'No point in getting her back up.'

He caught at her hand. 'Come with me? Please?'

She looked dubious. 'I don't know. What if—'

'Please, Im? I need you. I can't face her without you.'

'OK.' The grey-green eyes he loved studied him and she leaned forward to steal a kiss. 'Course I'll come with you.'

'OK.' His grasp on her hand tightened. 'C'mon.'

He led her from his room and down the panelled staircase to the kitchen where—as expected—he found his mother. She was leaning against the island, her jacket slung casually over one of the chair backs, her lips pressed thin in that angry line that always set his stomach to churning.

Her gaze went straight to Imogen as they entered. 'Imogen, could you give us a minute?'

Connor glared. 'She's staying. I want her to stay.'

He felt Imogen's fingers twist in his so that she was holding him instead of the other way round. 'He's my husband, Christine. Whatever you're going to say, it affects me too.'

His mother's expression was unreadable. She sighed. 'Fine. Have it your own way. Connor, what happened this afternoon, h'mm? Tom says you kicked in the cooler door. Why?'

He refused to look at her, developing a sudden fascination for the window behind her right shoulder.

'Connor!' He glanced up and caught her eye. 'Was it anything to do with the chat we had earlier?'

He shrugged. 'Maybe.'

'You told me you thought it was great. Are you telling me that you lied?'

Once again he remained quiet. Imogen's fingers on his tightened to the point of pain and he looked at her.

'What am I missin'?' she asked softly. 'What's Christine talking about?'

His mother cut in before he could answer. 'With all due respect, Imogen, this is nothing to do with you!'

For Connor, that was the final straw.

'Nothin' to do with her? Who d'you think'll be bringing up your kid when you've gone back to the drink? It'll be Imogen, Mum, Imogen and me 'cos I'll be damned if I let you do to another kid what you've done to me. It's not happenin', d'you hear me?' His mum whitened and Connor heard Imogen's gasp, but he was on a roll and he couldn't choke himself off. 'So if you're not pregnant yet just quit while you're ahead, yeah? 'Cos it'll be better if that kid's never born, just like it'd have been better if I'd never been born!'

He came to a stop, breathing hard, his head pounding from the reverberating echoes of his own voice mingling with the roaring of his pulse. Gradually the internal tumult ceased and as he returned to something resembling sanity he realised his wife and mother were staring at him, wearing matching expressions of shock.

'Connor—' Imogen tried.

It broke the spell and his mum made a queer sound. Connor's stomach churned anew, this time from a different cause.

'Mum—'

'I think you've said quite enough,' his mother spat, her eyes glittering. 'It's OK, you've made yourself clear. I should've known better than to talk to you about it, as if I could ever talk to you about anything. You just go ahead, get your exams and walk away to live your perfect little life and forget about me, because let's be honest, that's what you're dying to do!'

'I-I didn't mean it th-that way,' Connor stuttered.

'No? Because that's sure as hell what it sounded like! Tell me, what am I supposed to do when you're gone?'

'There's Tom,' Connor pointed out through stiff lips, ignoring his own fears on that score. 'Mum, he's not goin' anywhere, you don't have to have another kid 'cos you're scared of being alone!'

'And did it never occur to you, _sweetheart_, that perhaps I might like to try being a mum in the normal way?' He flinched at her tone. 'You know, _choose_ to have a kid, enjoy a pregnancy, plan for the birth… Am I not allowed to have that, eh? Is that my punishment, to never have that one simple thing that everyone else has?' Her voice broke.

Connor's throat was so tight he could hardly breathe, let alone speak. He shook his head. ''M sorry,' he managed.

His mother stared at him for a long moment. '_I'm_ sorry,' she said at last in a near-whisper that was more devastating than a shout would have been, 'but your sorry isn't good enough. Not this time.'

She left then, closing the door behind her with such gentleness that Connor only just heard it click. He ran frantic fingers through his hair, his thoughts scuttling like frightened animals in a trap as he replayed the events of the past fifteen minutes in his mind.

How the hell was he _ever_ going to fix this?

* * *

TBC!


	13. Episode 4-1

_Wow, that was quite a drop in comments last time, weird how it goes. I hope it means people aren't losing interest. Huge, huge thanks must go then to **Karla**, **Anon** and **Paisley**, as ever._

_**Anon**: You'll have to wait and see about Connor and Simon! More of that coming up in this fourth episode, although not right away. Good idea about Sue, have to think about that!_

_**Paisley**: Connor and Christine, their relationship is so marvellously twisted that just as you think they've reached a even keel it suddenly drops to a new low. Possibly why I enjoy writing it so much! This episode as a whole will have more Kacey in it, so stay tuned._

_**Karla**: LOL._

* * *

**NB: There's a trigger alert on this chapter. Please, if you are or have ever been affected by ED think twice before reading further.**

* * *

**Mulgrew Household, 6.50am**

* * *

Tom's eyes popped open of their own volition without the nagging of his alarm, and he squinted into the winter darkness as he tried to work out what had wakened him. A glance at his phone told him the time and he sighed; no point in going back to sleep at this rate. One hand reached out automatically for Christine and he frowned when he encountered cool sheets instead of warm skin and her customary protest at having to get up when it was still dark.

A flick of the lamp switch revealed that he was indeed alone. Alarm propelled him out of bed and down the stairs—for once, there was no need to worry about waking Connor and Imogen—towards the kitchen where he expected (and feared) to find his lover.

She turned at his entry, her eyes darkened by the unforgiving overhead lighting.

'Morning,' he greeted, trying for cheer. 'Kettle on?'

'Not yet,' she croaked. Her chin lifted. 'I er, I came to get a drink.'

'Of water?' he prompted, too quickly.

His heart sank when she made no answer; that was in itself an answer, and not the one he wanted.

'That won't help, you know it won't,' he said, hoping he sounded reasonable. 'You go back to the bottle now and you'll destroy everything you've achieved in the past year, all the bridges you and Connor've built—' He knew better than to add _and it could blow our chances of a baby sky high… _Now was most assuredly not the time_._

She laughed harshly. 'Bridges, what bridges? He couldn't wait to get away.'

'Oh, come on.' He crossed to her and rubbed her arms. 'He's just gone to Imogen's for a few days, he'll be back.'

'Will he.' Her tone was odd. 'Who says I want him back?'

Puzzled by her contradictory statements, Tom withdrew. 'Christine?'

All he could see was the top of her head, silver and bleached gold mixing with brown roots along the line of her centre parting, and his heart began to thump uncomfortably as the nagging suspicion that he hadn't been told the full story behind the younger Mulgrews' decampment to Sally Stewart's turned into certainty.

'You going to tell me what's going on?'

Silence.

His grip on Christine's shoulders tightened, gaining purchase through the silky slipperiness of her dressing gown. 'You told me Sally'd been complaining she hadn't seen Imogen and they'd decided to move there for a bit.'

'Yeah,' she agreed, her voice rasping.

'But you've been avoiding them.' Memory supplied more evidence. 'Sonya said you'd arranged for cover for most of your lessons with them this week. She wanted to know if you were OK.'

'Good for Sonya.'

He gave her a shake, annoyed by the ironic edge. 'Don't be like that, she cares about you.'

'More fool her.' He twitched inwardly at the bitterness that permeated every syllable. 'She's wasting her time, I'm not worth it.'

Something in him snapped. 'And you're worth so much more _drunk_?'

Christine raised her head at that, her eyes hooded. 'Don't knock it. Drink doesn't ask awkward questions, it won't talk back, it won't walk away.' The corners of her mouth quivered. 'My son told me last week it would have been better if he'd never been born, do you _really_ need me to explain why alcohol's a refuge right now?' She twitched out of his hold and reached for the glass behind her on the counter, tossing the clear contents back with a single practiced movement of the wrist.

Tom was too stricken to be angry, everything that was sensitive in him cringing on her behalf. It was a cruel thing to say to any parent, but to say it to Christine… He swallowed. 'Why didn't you tell me?'

She glanced at him. 'What was the point? What were you gonna do, drag him back like a naughty kid? I wouldn't have wanted to see him then anyway.'

He grabbed her arm and drew her towards the table. 'Tell me now.'

Her eyes fell. 'I—I can't, Tom. Not yet.' Another quiver. 'It hurts too much, I just want to forget it.'

Tom studied her for a long moment, unsure of what to say. A comment from Kacey several days before provided an inkling and he quoted, '"You can't protect yourself by cutting yourself off… drink and drugs are not the answer…" Sound familiar?'

The planes of Christine's face were very sharp as she glared. '_Damn_ you, Tom Clarkson!'

He refused to back down.

'It was good advice, are you gonna take it or just dish it out?' It came out more confrontational than he'd intended.

She buried her face in her hands and he allowed it. When the clock had ticked through several minutes he decided he'd waited long enough and peeled them back to ask, apparently_ à propos_ of nothing, 'Are you coming to school today?'

She shot him a look.

'Haven't got a choice, have I? Can't stay here alone, too much time to brood and—' A furtive glance towards the cupboard under the sink said it all, and his grasp tightened on her hands. It drew her gaze back to him. 'Why are you still here? I've been hell to live with the past week, I've been a total bitch, I can admit it. So why are you still here?'

The wondering note in the question broke his heart.

'Because I love you, you idiot!'

She pressed her lips together as though to steady them, and hers fingers twisted in his, drawing their clasped hands towards her heart. 'Keep telling me, Tom. Someday I might believe it.'

'Idiot,' he grumbled again without heat. 'What kind of guy d'you think I am? I wouldn't have suggested a baby if I wasn't planning on staying put. For _good_.'

Christine bit into her lip. 'Connor said—he said it'd be better to stop trying. Apparently I'm so totally rubbish as a mother that bringing another child into the world shouldn't be allowed.'

Tom stared, horrified all over again. 'He said that?'

Her composure was starting to fracture, he could see. Of all her fault lines, this one ran deepest. 'As good as.'

_I'm gonna kill him_, Tom thought as he pulled her into a tight hug. _When I get hold of that boy later I swear I'm gonna kill him_.

* * *

**Stewart household, 7.30am**

* * *

The lights on Imogen's bedroom flashed on and off and she groaned and threw her arm over her eyes. A tap on the shoulder made her squint up; it was her mum.

'I'm about to put the breakfast on. You'd better get moving or you'll be late, and you know how slow he is.' Sally exaggerated the sign for 'slow', drawing it out, and Imogen grinned.

'Too right. Give us twenty minutes?'

Her mum nodded and left, and Imogen leaned over Connor, buried as usual within the depths of their duvet with only very top of his dark head showing.

'Time to get up,' she whispered, her stomach rumbling and her nose starting to twitch as the rich scent of frying bacon filled the house.

Connor grumbled. She could feel the vibrations of it through her fingers.

'Mum's cooking,' she added, hoping that would kick him into gear. 'Can't you smell it? She's even worse than your mum.'

He went rigid beneath her touch and Imogen winced. She should have known better than to mention Christine.

Connor twisted so that he was facing her, his expression blank. 'I don't have a mum.'

'Connor—'

'You heard her,' he insisted. 'I said I was sorry and she said it wasn't good enough. She couldn't even look at us the next day, that's why I had to get out of there.' A beat. 'And she's been avoiding us, you know she has.'

Imogen blew out a sigh, sifting for the right words. 'You… you were a bit harsh. And… honest, Connor, would it be so bad? If they had a kid?'

'But what if—'

She put her hand over his mouth, cutting off the eternal cycle of _what-ifs _and_ maybes _that she'd heard multiple times before. 'It's different. Tom loves Christine, everyone can see it, he's crap at hiding it. He's not Mr Byrne, he's not goin' anywhere, he can look after your mum and the kid, if there is one.' She traced his profile with a finger. 'Last term, when you and Kace went missing? Me and your mum had words and … well, Tom got involved and he told me it wasn't our job to look after her, that we had to live our own lives. He was right.'

Connor looked desolate. 'I've looked after her my whole life, I don't know how to—'

She interrupted him with a kiss. 'It's not your job to save her.' Another kiss. 'If you're that desperate for someone to look after—' She gave a little squeal as he rolled on top of her, momentarily taking the upper hand, but when his head dropped to rest on her shoulder she knew that this wouldn't be so easily solved.

She gritted her teeth and wrapped her arms tightly around her husband, holding him to her in an attempt to soothe the tremors running through his form. They'd have to get up or her mum would be in on them again, but she could give Connor a little more time. Today was the careers fair and she knew Christine was one of the staff members who'd be patrolling the hall, checking that Years 11 and 12 weren't simply using the break from usual lessons as an excuse to skive off. Unless she found a way to wriggle out of that too, Imogen thought uneasily.

She blew out a gusty sigh. Bloody Mulgrews, they were as bad as each other. Sensitive, too quick to react, stubborn as mules, the pair of them… How could anyone help if they wouldn't even _talk_ to each other?

She gave a slow smile. Well, she wasn't gonna let them do it. Times had changed. The Mulgrews were no longer alone in their private dysfunctional hell; they had herself and Tom and Dynasty and Kevin. _And_ it could be a way to get the latter pair together once more… Energy surged through her and she prodded Connor away from her and encouraged him up by the simple means of stripping the duvet from the bed.

He gaped at her and she put her hands on her hips, Dynasty-fashion.

'Shift,' she ordered, jabbing her thumb in the direction of the bathroom. 'Get moving and we'll go for that food Mum's murderin'.We've got work to do today.'

He stumbled to his feet, a puzzled frown in place. 'Work?'

She shoved a towel into his arms, dumping his washbag on top. 'Yeah, Dyn and Kevin. Haven't you been wanting to sort them out?'

A slow smile spread across his face. 'You mean you're gonna stop hanging out with Louisa?'

'I like Lulu, she's a mate,' Imogen told him firmly, 'but she's not Dynasty. Dynasty's still my best mate and she's back today. Louisa shouldn't have muscled in there and Kev needs to be reminded what he's missing, yeah?' An emphatic nod indicated Connor's agreement. 'So get dressed. Forget the careers fair, today we're gonna get Dynasty and Kevin talking again or my name's not Imogen Mulgrew!'

Connor departed for the shower with alacrity after that, and Imogen smirked as she laid out their uniforms. _Mulgrew_, indeed. Her husband and mother-in-law were about to learn (slowly) that with a little help from their friends she could be as Machiavellian as they.

* * *

**Barry household, 8.00am**

* * *

The loud gush of water flowing from the old-fashioned bath mixer tap provided a covering soundtrack as Kacey bent over the loo, determined to be rid of the cooked breakfast her mother had foisted on herself and Dynasty that morning.

Usually she could avoid it, but this morning she'd wakened shaking and with a thumping headache. Her heart had sank to her slippers when she staggered into the bathroom first thing and saw her chalk-white face; she'd known then that there was no way to get out of it, and so it had proved.

Nor had Dynasty been much help, she thought resentfully as she straightened, using one hand to steady herself against the wall and wiping her mouth with the other. She'd blabbed about how Kacey had looked like death warmed up and then they'd all stilled because of—because of Barry and Carol had forged ahead in that determined-to-be-cheerful fashion that Kacey had come to loathe, slapping bacon and sausages and eggs and beans and black pudding on the table and manhandling her daughters into sitting down.

Thankfully, most of her attention had been on Dynasty, who was returning to school for the first time since her suspension. That meant Kacey was able to eat a little less, but she'd still had to force down a sausage, a rasher and some of the beans. She'd left the black pudding–something she'd always hated—and Dynasty's complaint about the eggs being fried in butter instead of being poached or done in olive oil had given Kacey an excuse to leave those too.

Well, the rest of it was gone now, she thought triumphantly as she gave her teeth a thorough cleaning. Exhilaration surged through her with the renewed realisation that at the end of the day she could retain control over _this_. People could do and say whatever they liked in every other aspect of her life, but in this, the most fundamental of things, she ultimately held the upper hand.

She leaned closer, studying her reflection in the mirror. She was still a bit white but it was only just February, for God's sake. Who expected her to look tanned at this time of year, and if she turned up at school with all that crap plastered on her face that'd only give muppets like Darren Hughes more license to make fun than they had already. Her cheekbones were becoming increasingly pronounced, that was good, it meant she was losing fat there. And best of all, her tiny bust had all but disappeared, leaving her so flat in front that the bandages she'd once resorted to were no longer necessary. It was working, it could only get better—but no-one must know. If anyone else knew, they'd try to control this too. This was the one part of her life that was hers alone.

'Kace! Are you done yet?' Dyn, sounding like she was in a right flap.

'Yeah, just a mo.' Kacey glanced around the bathroom, ensuring it was clean and everything as it should be, and turned to unlock the door. 'All yours, sis.'

Dynasty eyed her askance. 'What's got into you, you're dead chirpy all of a sudden.'

'Yeah.' Kacey beamed and sidled past her sister. 'Careers fair today, better than lessons, innit?'

Dynasty's arms folded, her eyes narrowing. 'We don't get out of _everythin_'.'

'We get out of _most_ things,' Kacey argued. 'Harl says no science today!'

The older girl glanced over her shoulder, down the stairs, and pulled Kacey back into the bathroom. 'Listen babe, about that—'

Kacey shrugged it off. 'Just leave it, Dyn. I wouldn't have told yer, but you wouldn't shut up!'

'You're me wee sister,' Dynasty said, sounding hurt. 'Our baby. No-one's allowed to upset yer or they'll 'ave me to deal with.'

'Dyn… I'm not a baby no more. I can deal with it, honest. I've already got Harl and Lula looking out for us and Mrs M, I don't need you hovering over me shoulder an' all!'

'Do you promise you'll tell Christine or Tom if that Spark cow gets at yer again?'

Kacey blinked, as always disconcerted by her sister's new habit of referring to those members of staff by their given names. 'Yeah.'

Dynasty didn't look convinced. 'You _swear_?'

She tilted her head on one side and lifted her little finger. 'Pinky swear.'

That worked, as she'd known it would. Dynasty was as soft as they came, despite her hard-as-nails exterior.

The older girl was still smiling when they drew back from their embrace and Kacey decided now was the moment to ask the question she'd been longing to pose all week.

'Dyn… see when you go back to school today?'

Dynasty turned from the mirror, bristle brush in hand. 'Yeah?'

Kacey allowed a corner of her mouth to turn up in a semblance of her old cheeky grin. 'You gonna make up with Kevin?'

Her sister did not reply at once, but Kacey could see her reflection in the mirror. She was tight-lipped, but the younger girl did not miss the sheen in her eyes. Encouraged, she sidled closer. 'Come on, Dyn. You miss 'im, stop pretending yer don't.'

Dynasty whirled, slamming her brush on the shelf above the sink. 'Never said I didn't, did I?' Kacey frowned. 'All of yous actin' all miffed cos I dumped Kevin, well, I never. I was trying to give him some space, like. You know what Mum's been like with him—'

'Kev didn't mind,' Kacey protested.

'And how d'you know that, eh? Kev's 'ad a hard life, Munch. His mum treated him like dirt, it must be like all his Christmases come at once for our mum to want him. It's not right, it's not right for 'im or for us. Barry's dead, kiddo, and the sooner we accept that an' move on the better for all of us!'

'I miss 'im,' Kacey blurted as Dynasty picked up her brush and attacked her hair with new energy. At once the brush fell from the older girl's hand as she turned to pull Kacey close.

'I know you do, babe. Mum an' me an' all—' but Kacey was shaking her head. Dynasty hadn't _got_ it.

'I'm not talkin' about Barry, I'm talking about Kevin an' Connor and even Imogen… we never see them no more.' Dynasty blinked and Kacey grabbed at her arm. 'Please, Dyn? Please fix it? Just talk to 'em, I don't wanna lose anyone else. _Please_?' She felt sick as she added that last desperate _please_, her heart beating extra-fast as she awaited her sister's response.

Dynasty's blue gaze was speculative as she studied her. 'I'll do you a deal, eh?'

'Deal?' Kacey hadn't expected that and her chest constricted. 'What deal?'

'I'll sort it with Kev and the rest on the condition that you come shoppin' with me, yeah?'

'Aw Dyn—'

Dynasty put a hand on her shoulder and twisted her to face the mirror. 'Just look at yourself, babe. Those trainers are well shockin' and the trousers are about to fall off of yer.' Kacey tried and failed to suppress a squeak of horror, and the older girl's hands tightened on her shoulders. 'Don't look so scared, I won't try to put you in a skirt, I promise.'

Kacey's throat was so tight from pure unadulterated terror that she couldn't have spoken if she'd wanted to. Fortunately, their mother came to her rescue by shouting that it was nearly twenty past eight and more than time for them to be on their way, and she took advantage of it to dive past Dynasty in order to get to her own room. Once there, she slammed the door shut and leaned against it, breathing hard.

How was she gonna do this? Dynasty wasn't stupid, she'd been a bit preoccupied lately, but a shopping trip would throw Kacey squarely into the spotlight and there was no way she could wriggle out of it. Kacey struggled to fit a size four these days, Dynasty would know there was something up as soon as she realised that and then she'd act, Kacey knew her sister well enough to be sure of it. But if she didn't go, would Dynasty keep her end of the deal? She swallowed hard as her mind switched back and forth from one seemingly absolute choice to the other: her secret, or Dynasty's happiness.

Secret or sister. Which to choose?

If only there was another way…

* * *

**TBC**

**Next time: Tom contrives to annoy both Sue and Mika, and the tangled relationships amongst the younger crowd promise a more complicated careers day than anyone had envisaged...**

**Please don't forget to let me know what you think!**


	14. Episode 4-2

_Hi all! I must confess I felt a bit bad following my shriek for reassurance last time. It wasn't targeted at anyone in particular and it did dawn on me afterwards that at this time of the year people might be busy with exams/graduation/jobs/holidays/delete as appropriate! So I do apologise if anyone felt nagged or pointed at, it wasn't intentional._

_Secondly, a guest reviewer commented that the last part was a bit boring. They had a point, it was a tad fillerish. I could say that in a multi-part story like this slow bits are inevitable. It's also true that I'm essentially discovering the story as I write it; I might know _what_ happens, but I don't always know _how _or_ why_, and writing those 'slow' bits often tells me where I'm going, even though it might not seem that way to anyone else. _

_Soo…. Here's the question. What do you prefer: to continue as-is, or to wait longer for instalments that are shorter and pacier? That would allow me to write the slow stuff when I need it, but not necessarily share it!Alternatively, I could move away from sticking to the show's format of one-week-per-'episode' and skip weeks when necessary in order to move things on. Anyway, have a think and let me know—but I will assume that if you don't speak up you're happy with things as they are!_

_So, reviews:_

_**Guest**__: see above!_

_**Jessiekat89**__: Also see above; apologies! As for Kacey, yeah, we're moving in that direction. _

_**Paisley**__: H'mmm…. *G*_

_**Loulouberry**__: Thanks!_

_**Vampire diaries**__: Aw, thanks. Especially for saying what you did re: Sue. She's become a bit of a caricature on the show, I think, and I'm trying to avoid that. _

_**Sue Spark**__: It's going to get worse before it gets better. Wait, didn't I say that before?!_

_**GG**__: Thanks!_

_**Guest**__: Thanks, and here you go!_

_Oh, just a final note that we are about to embark on the annual idiocy known as the Twelfth in this part of the world. As I said this time last year, I tend to get out of town in case trouble kicks off. As a result that may mean that the next couple of weeks of posting are disrupted, but we'll see. And, as always, enjoy and review! ox_

* * *

**Staffroom, 8.30am**

* * *

Tom popped his head around the staffroom door, seeking out his stepdaughter. 'Mika? Has anyone seen Mika?' As a PGCE student he knew she might very well not be in yet.

'She's in the office talking to 'im in there,' Sonya volunteered, and Tom's brow creased. Even now, nearly a month into the term, the secretary made her dislike of Simon plain. He'd have to do something about that, it was time Sonya got over it, but he'd a feeling she'd only listen to one person—and Christine was unlikely to co-operate just now.

In the meantime, however, he had a stepdaughter to find. He nodded his thanks to Sonya as he passed her on his way to the connecting door, and was disconcerted to find that not only was Mika in Simon's office, she was behaving in a manner that even his not-entirely-awake male brain could identify as flirtatious.

As was evidenced by her involuntary jump when he called her name.

'Tom?'

'I want you in my office,' he said firmly. 'Sue too. Simon?'

An odd expression flickered across the Head's features. 'She followed me in, isn't she in the staffroom?'

'She doesn't like sitting in there,' Mika offered, shooting Tom a quick look. 'She feels they're all out to get her.'

Simon rolled his eyes. 'Yeah, she's got a bit of a martyr complex at the moment. I've tried to snap her out of it, but…' He shrugged. 'Maybe I didn't try hard enough.'

Tom eyed him curiously; was that guilt? However, there was no time to pursue it. He beckoned Mika over and towed her down the corridor and up the stairs, past Christine's room towards the science lab.

'Talk into her coming to my office, would you?'

Mika frowned. 'Why me? Why don't you just ask her yourself?' Her tone was combative, reminding her stepfather of her teenage years.

'Just do it, alright?' he snapped. 'While we're in school, I'm your boss. This is school business, not personal.'

'_She'll_ think it's personal,' Mika commented. 'That's why you're not asking her, isn't it.'

'Mika—'

She raised her hands. 'Fine, fine, I heard you the first time. I'll get her.' She hesitated, one hand on the lab door. 'Are you just gonna stand there and wait for me? Bit obvious, isn't it?'

'Don't be cheeky,' Tom told her austerely. 'OK, have it your way. My office, five minutes? Don't be late, there's still briefing to go.'

'Yeah, yeah.' His stepdaughter waved him off as she slipped into the lab, and Tom decided to take her advice and return to his own office, shaking his head all the while. Between Simon and Sue, himself and Mika, himself and Christine, Christine and Connor, Connor and Imogen, Imogen and Dynasty, Dynasty and Kevin … Waterloo Road was becoming altogether too much of a family affair, he felt. And like a family, it was only as good as the relationships between its individual members—and right now those relationships were disturbingly fractured, the cracks running from home to school and back again.

He pulled out the folders he needed and flipped through them as he waited, the idea that had come to him the previous week coalescing into something more concrete. A solution to several problems, or so he hoped. _If_ the main parties involved took his suggestion the right way, and there were no guarantees there.

'Mr Clarkson?' Mika popped her head around the door and he narrowed his eyes at her, not deceived by the sugary sweetness of her tone. 'May we come in?'

He indicated the two seats in front of his desk and jumped up to fetch the kettle. 'Yeah, come right in. Coffee, Mika? What about you, Sue?'

The new teacher gave him a glance that was almost timid, an action that made her seem younger than she was. 'Tea please, Mr Clarkson.'

'Tom, it's Tom,' he told her firmly as the kettle boiled. 'Ignore Mika, that's just her idea of a joke.'

Once everyone was supplied with a drink he took his seat, facing both young women across his desk.

'Right. Well, as you know, Waterloo Road has responsibilities towards both of you, it's our job to support you as you finish your training, Mika, and as Sue works towards the end of her NQT year. We've thought long and hard about this and senior management have decided that the best way to approach it for all involved is to combine Mika's PGCE work with Sue's CPD.' Both women stiffened and Tom allowed his voice to rise slightly, eager to ram his point home before they could get a word in.

'It makes sense in terms of resources as Sue's our only NQT and you, Mika, are our only student. Besides, we think you've a lot to give each other. Mika's already proven to have a good grasp of classroom management, Sue, which we all know is your weak point'—whereat Sue's complexion rivalled the copper of her hair—'and by the same token, Mika can't organise her way out of a paper bag whilst that's a definite strength of Sue's.'

He tapped the pile of folders in front of him. 'Mika, these folders are a disgrace. Sort them, or that's a black mark against you already. Sound organisation is crucial if you're to become an effective teacher; it's not just about how you behave in front of the kids. I'm sure Sue can give you a hand there.'

'I can manage them myself, thanks.' Mika yanked her folders towards her, snatching them out of his grasp. 'They've just got a bit… out of hand, what with Tommy and all.'

Tom did not flinch. 'I know it's been tough with a young baby, but that's no reason to let your work slip. If you need advice I'm sure Christine would be willing to offer—' He glared and was relieved when she subsided. After all, as she now knew her own difficulties were peanuts compared to what Christine had endured at the same age.

'As for you, Sue, I'd like Mika to watch you teach, if you don't mind. She might have some ideas for you, and you're very close in terms in age and classroom experience. Don't worry, you won't be left high and dry, I'll ask Mrs Mulgrew to keep an ear out for any trouble.' Sue blanched and he tutted. 'Don't look like that, she's not an ogre.'

'Which—which class?'

He caught Mika's smirk as he reached for the master timetable. 'Let's hope it's not Year 10, eh?'

Sue did not answer and once again Tom experienced a pang of sympathy for her. There were no two ways about it, Year 10—any Year 10—could be a set of little monsters, it was just their age. Mika was fortunate in that she'd managed to hit exactly the right note with them, but Mika was not burdened as Sue was by the arguably unrealistic expectations of a private school education.

'It's Year 11,' he announced after several minutes of studying the timetable. 'Your lesson with them might be shortened as they've got that careers fair third lesson, but I suggest you and Mika get round that by stationing yourselves in hall after Break and remind them where they're supposed to be when the bell goes.' Mika gave a brisk nod, but Sue was sinking in her seat as if she was still a pupil herself.

'Sue?' he prompted after an extended silence. 'Can do? I'm not going to force this on you.'

She swallowed hard. 'That's Kacey Barry's class.'

'Yeah.' He studied her. 'You messed up there, but Kacey told me that you did— _eventually_—apologise. She doesn't want any trouble over it so don't cause it, eh?'

'I—I _can't_,' Sue wailed.

Mika turned in her seat. 'Don't make such a drama out of it,' and Tom winced on Sue's behalf; did Mika have to be so sharp? 'Here's what you do. Most of that crowd are sensible, and Lula Tsibi generally tells the ones that aren't what to think. Get hold of her and you'll be fine.'

'But it was Lula who—'

'She won't hold it against you,' Tom put in. 'Or not for long. More than anyone, Lula knows life's short—too short for grudges. She flares up and simmers down just as quickly, but she'll forgive you provided you don't put a step wrong again. She's no patience for fools—but Mika's hit the nail on the head. If you get Lula on side, Harley won't be far behind and the rest will just go along with it. _Kacey_ certainly won't give you grief, I can promise you that.'

Sue's colour was still flashing from red to white and back again. 'I _can't_,' she gasped a second time before bursting into tears.

Tom was just reaching across to hand her over the ever-useful tissue box when Mika said impatiently, 'Man up, Sue. Waterloo Road's tough, no-one said it'd be easy. Stuff doesn't just fall into your lap, you have to work to get what you want and work even harder to keep it.' She pushed out of her chair, hugging her folders to her. 'That goes for everything, not just school.' She looked at a dumbfounded Tom. 'Can I go?'

Too startled by her speech to say anything else, Tom nodded and Mika departed, leaving him trying to console a still-sobbing Sue while he tried to get his head around the layers of his stepdaughter's declaration. The glitter of the diamond on Sue's finger caught his eye as the young woman attempted to mop up and Tom managed to catch back a groan in the nick of time as he recalled the scene in Simon's office earlier.

Mika had given Sue a wake-up call, all right—and he just hoped the Science teacher was sufficiently alert to realise that it extended far beyond the classroom.

* * *

**Mr Clarkson's room, 9.00am**

* * *

Tom was still mulling over his conversation with Mika and Sue when he came to take his form for registration. They were in a surly mood this morning, he thought, with very little chat going on. He cast Connor an unfriendly glance as he dumped his bag on the desk; that was another thing he planned to sort, and soon. Renewed anger boiled within him as he remembered Christine's dejection that morning. If Josh had ever spoken to _him_ like that—

He picked up the register and began to go through it. Connor acknowledged his name with little more than a glance, and that suited Tom just fine. Next came Imogen, but she was too busy twisting in her seat to pay attention, and Tom's frown deepened. He crossed to her desk and slapped the register against it, the resulting breeze causing her to start.

'What—'

Tom planted his hands on her desk and leaned forward, glaring. 'Am I boring you, Mrs Mulgrew?'

Imogen's eyes went wide. 'Sir—'

He pointed towards the front of the classroom. 'Eyes _that_ way.'

Imogen blushed furiously and her head dipped. Satisfied, Tom returned to the front, ignoring the hostile glances coming from Connor's direction.

'Careers fair,' he barked. 'You lot have two goes, first after break and again after lunch. It's a good opportunity, don't waste it, especially this afternoon's session when we've got an admissions tutor from Strathclyde coming. Don't show us up, eh?'

The class shifted, their expressions uncertain, and Tom felt suddenly guilty. There was no need to take out his anger with one student on them all. Before he could say more, the door swung open and Dynasty Barry stood there, hand on one hip and insouciantly chewing a piece of gum in defiance of rules. The change in atmosphere was immediate; Imogen gave a squeal and lurched herself across the room into her best friend's arms, Kevin and Connor became instantly more alert, and the glum mood in the room started to lift as everyone began to talk at once. Only Louisa seemed unimpressed by the Head Girl's return, choosing instead to fidget with the lever arch folder in front of her.

Tom was surprised to find himself grinning. 'Welcome back, Dynasty.'

One corner of her lips curved as sauntered down the aisle towards the desks Imogen favoured. 'Good to be back, sir.' She jabbed the seat Louisa was clinging to. 'Er, I think you'll find you're in the wrong place, sweetheart. That's _my_ seat.'

Louisa looked at Imogen. 'But—'

Imogen, Tom saw, was almost bouncing on her heels, her resting in the crook of Dynasty's arm. 'Please, Lulu?'

Louisa's blonde hair hid her face as she silently rose and moved. Not that Imogen appeared to notice, she was beaming from ear to ear, while Dynasty's smirk was well in evidence. Tom shook his head, bemused; even now he still struggled to understand teenage girls. How could they change so fast?

'Right,' he announced, trying to regain some control of the situation. 'Bell's about to go, so get lost, Year 12. Not you, Connor,' he yelled above the rising din, 'you're staying right here, mate.' His teeth snapped shut on the 'mate'; he was feeling anything but matey towards the younger man just now.

He wasn't altogether surprised to find that they weren't alone once the dust of the general exodus had settled. Imogen had remained, her hand tightly entwined with her husband's and her lips set in a determined line. Dynasty and Kevin were not that close—Tom was almost relieved to see that some things remained constant—but they stood shoulder to shoulder, their level gazes saying as clearly as words that if he wanted to take on Connor he'd have to take on them all.

'Your presence isn't required, you three,' he said, indicating the door. 'Go.'

'I'm staying,' Imogen insisted. 'You're gonna have a go at him, aren't you?'

Tom's jaw clenched. 'With good reason.'

Dynasty's eyes went round. 'Why, what's 'e done?'

Tom glared meaningly at Kevin, and the boy took the hint. 'C'mon, Dyn,' he said, grabbing his former girlfriend by the arm and dragging her off. 'We'll find out later, won't we?'

'Get out, Kevin,' Tom snapped. The lad wasn't a fool and scarpered in short order, Dynasty glancing back over her shoulder as they went.

'If this is about last week—' Connor tried.

The apologetic tone blew the lid off Tom's tenuous hold on his temper. 'What the hell were you thinking?' he demanded, grabbing Connor's collar. 'You're not stupid, you're not insensitive… what the _hell_ were you thinking to say what you did to your mother?'

'Let him go!' Imogen insisted, pulling at Tom's hands. 'Tom, it wasn't all his fault!'

'No? He did tell his mum he wished he'd never been born, didn't he?' Connor went from white to grey as Tom gave him a none-too-gentle shake. 'And if that wasn't bad enough, he then yelled at her for wanting a little happiness. So tell me, Imogen, which part wasn't his fault?!'

She inserted herself between them. 'It's easy for you to say, you're not the one who's spent your whole life picking up Christine time after time after time!'

That brought Tom up short. Gradually, he loosened his hold on the boy's collar but Imogen wasn't finished, poking him in the chest with a forefinger to add emphasis to her words.

'You were so busy being angry for Christine you never stopped to think about what this must be like for Connor! He's scared, Tom! His mum's an alcoholic, she's never been sober this long before, she's fragile—'

'You don't need to tell me that!'

'No? Then why are we having this conversation, eh?' A final poke in the chest rammed the point home.

Tom forced himself to calm down, blowing out a breath. '_Bugger_.'

Imogen folded her arms, her eyes shooting daggers. 'What's that supposed to mean?'

'It means you can back off,' he told her ruefully. 'You've made your point. I'll listen.'

So they talked. Or rather, Imogen did, but gradually Connor intervened, adding a word here and there, and Tom's stomach threatened to crawl out of his shoes. Connor wasn't just being a little shit, he was forced to acknowledge, he had real, genuine, _valid_ concerns based on a lifetime's experience of his mother. Concerns that Tom had to admit he himself had completely glossed over when he'd blithely suggested starting a family.

He sat down heavily once Connor had finished repeating—haltingly—exactly what he'd said to his mum and why. Christine hadn't told Tom everything and no wonder. He pointed to the chairs that stood near his desk.

'Sit.'

'But the bell's gone,' Imogen protested, glancing towards the door.

'Who's teaching you?'

They exchanged a glance. Connor's shuffling feet said it all and Tom sighed. 'I don't think she's ready to see you, mate.'

'If she's there,' Connor remarked darkly.

Tom eyed him. 'Connor, I keep askin', but do you trust me?'

The response was long in coming, the furtive glance reminding Tom of Christine. 'Sometimes.'

He refused to be discouraged.

'Do you trust me to do right by your mum?'

The younger man shrugged and Imogen jumped in once again. 'You can't blame him for not being sure, no-one's ever stuck around before! It's not he doesn't trust you, he doesn't trust _anyone_!'

'Is that true, Connor?'

He glanced up, his lips twitching. 'I guess. Apart from her,' and he jerked his head towards Imogen. 'And Kev.'

'You're gonna have to let go sometime,' Tom told him gently. 'You can't look after her forever, son. You and Imogen need to have your own lives—and you need to let your mum have hers.'

Connor was holding the sleeve of his cardigan to his mouth, repetitively moving the fabric across his lips. It was a mannerism that niggled at the back of Tom's mind every time he saw it—and all at once he recognised it. He'd seen Chlo's kids do exactly that with their comfort blankets when they were tiny and afraid, until they learned that there would always be someone to protect them. It hurt him to think that Connor had never had that certainty, that he'd always been so busy doing the caring to feel cared _for_. No wonder Christine felt such a profound need to atone.

He leaned forward. 'Look, if it'll help I'll let you into a secret.' He reached into his pocket for the little velvet-covered box he'd been carrying for days, trying to find the courage to produce it. 'I've got this for your mum,' he went on, speaking too quickly now from sheer nerves, 'I just don't know when to ask—'

Imogen's smile was radiant. 'Is that what I think it is?'

He handed it over, watching her face she opened it. Women were all the same, he thought in amusement as he saw the look of near-reverence as she ran a delicate finger over the solitaire diamond that had once been his own mother's. Diamonds are a girl's best friend indeed…

Tom looked at Connor, his heart rate picking up. 'Well, mate? What d'you think? Will this convince her—and _you_—that I'm not going anywhere?'

* * *

**TBC and you know the drill :)**


	15. Episode 4-3

_Thanks for the reviews from last time! Greatly appreciated, as always._

_**Jessiekat89**: Looks that way, doesn't it? Plenty of Mika coming up—not so much this time, but in the next bit. As for Tom/Christine, you'll have to wait for that!_

_**Sue Spark**: Tough cookies. That's what's teaching is all about!_

_**Paisley**: Yeah, Tom needed a bit of a wake-up call and that conversation with Connor will have repercussions._

_**Guest**: Aw, poor Sue. Laughing at her struggles! :)_

* * *

**Hall, 10.10am**

* * *

Louisa found herself standing amongst a small knot of sixth formers including Imogen, Connor, Kevin, and the newly returned Dynasty. Her own presence in the group was at Imogen's insistence, she knew that much, and it warmed her heart. Over the past weeks she'd become genuinely fond of Imogen and it was reassuring to know that the affection was in some measure returned and that Dynasty's reappearance did not mean that Louisa would be dropped like the proverbial hot potato as she had initially feared.

'Isn't this _epic_?' Imogen demanded, taking her arm. 'All these universities and professionals coming to Waterloo Road, just for us! What are you gonna look at?'

'Oh, there'll be nothing here that's good enough for Miss High-an'Mighty,' Dynasty put in when Connor distracted Imogen with a question. 'You think you're above it, it's written all over yer.'

Louisa gave her the most condescending smile she could manage. 'Actually, I'm planning on applying to Edinburgh and Aberdeen and they're both here so I'll be fine, but you might be interested in knowing that Greenock tech's _that_ way—'

Dynasty took a menacing step closer but before she could say anything Mrs Mulgrew appeared, armed with a sheaf of papers.

'Here, you've all to fill out one of these,' she said briskly, pulling out half a dozen from her pile and handing them to Dynasty. 'Do me a favour and make sure everyone gets a copy, will you?'

Louisa noticed Dynasty frown as she accepted them. 'Imogen an' Connor's only over there, miss.'

'It'll be faster if you hand them out for me, won't it?' Mrs Mulgrew returned swiftly. Her eyes skated over Louisa as Dynasty went—with palpable reluctance—to do her bidding. 'Everything OK, Miss Fox?'

Louisa gave a muttered response—it was a clear as day that Mrs Mulgrew was only being polite—and once the older woman had moved off she began to drift in the direction of the nearest stall, where she found herself next to Dynasty's sister Kacey.

To her surprise, the younger Barry gave her a tentative half-smile. 'Are yous all mates now? You an' the Mulgrews and Kevin and our Dyn?'

Louisa opened her mouth to give an easy lie, but there was a wistfulness in the grey eyes facing hers that made her pause and substitute the truth. 'Not… exactly.'

Kacey's shoulders slumped. 'Oh.' Her gaze slipped past Louisa. 'At least them two are talkin'.'

She twisted to see who Kacey was referring to and a lump formed in her throat. Kevin and Dynasty were standing to one side and they were indeed talking, their heads close together. For a moment Louisa wished she could lipread; Emily had tried to teach her, but without an absolute imperative to learn she'd never got very far.

'Taken 'em long enough,' Kacey was saying, and Louisa glanced at her, surprised by her tone.

'Don't you like Kevin?'

The other girl gave her a look that said _don't be stupid_. ''Course I do, who doesn't? It ain't that, it's—' She never got a chance to finish for Lula and Harley came to drag her away, both talking at once, and Louisa was once more left to her own devices, her eyes furtively seeking out Dynasty and Kevin across the crowded hall. The latter must have felt her eyes on him, for as he and Dynasty parted he glanced over and sent her a half-wave together with that trademark monkey grin that brought dimples to his cheeks and a sparkle to his eyes.

She returned the wave and smile. She couldn't help it, she couldn't resist him. She hadn't intended to fall for Kevin, she'd flirted with him primarily to annoy Dynasty, but they'd been thrown together numerous times during the Head Girl's absence and Louisa had found herself liking him more and more. He wasn't her usual type in the least; he was skinny and nerdy and still looked barely a day over fifteen… but gradually she'd fallen under the spell of his wit, his humour—and that cheeky grin he could summon at a moment's notice.

She was jerked out of her thoughts by a talon-like grip descending on her arm as an unmistakable voice hissed, '_You_! You might think you've got away with it, but you haven't. I'm on to you!'

Louisa allowed her eyes to close into near-slits as she turned to face Dynasty. 'Darling, hasn't anyone told you that you're getting boring? Paranoia is _so_ unattractive.'

For a moment she thought the other sixth former would attack her—hoped for it, even. A third physical assault would seal Dynasty's fate and deprive her of her Head Girl badge, if not her place at Waterloo Road.

Unfortunately, Dynasty must have realised it too. Her lips curved. 'It's not gonna be that easy, I'm better'n'that. I can see straight through you, so I can. I know what your problem is. You're _jealous_.'

Louisa forced out a laugh. That was nearer the truth than she liked. 'Oh, puh-_lease_. Don't be more absurd than you can help.'

The Head Girl came closer, invading what was left of Louisa's personal space.

'I'm not the one bein' absurd, that's you, tryin' to steal me mate, me badge—yeah, I've seen the way you look at it—and now me fella. Well, listen up, love: keep them manicured mitts _off_ or you'll be sorry.'

Louisa brushed a lock of wavy golden hair away from her face, ostentatiously showing off those "manicured mitts". 'Oh, don't be so melodramatic. You sound like a bad soap opera—but that's probably all you watch, so what a surprise. I haven't done a thing, you've endangered those things all by yourself—' She broke off with a guilty start as Kevin approached, hands plugged deep in his pockets and a grin stretching from ear to ear.

'Hey, ladies. What're you standin' here for, got your futures all mapped out already? World domination sorted?' He winked impartially at them both, and Louisa could see Dynasty stiffen and shift her weight from one foot to the other.

It was all the hint Kevin needed; his face fell almost comically. 'Aw, what. Are yous arguing _again_?'

'_She_ needs to back off!' Dynasty flared, stabbing a finger in Louisa's direction. 'Kevin, can't you see she's tryin' to twist you round her wee finger like she's done with Imogen—'

Kevin threw up his hands. 'Dyn—'

'_She_ needs to make up her mind!' Louisa interrupted fiercely. 'She's behaving like a spoilt kid who doesn't want her toys and doesn't want anyone else to play with them either!'

Kevin went utterly still.

'I'm not a toy,' he said while Dynasty flung 'Well if you take 'em anyway that makes you a thief!' at Louisa; if Louisa hadn't been watching she'd have missed it.

As Dynasty had. She was still railing but Louisa tuned her out. She was too busy watching Kevin, watching the Head Boy's expression grow grimmer and grimmer. A knot formed in her belly; she'd never imagined that that boyish face could look so cold and hard.

'Are you done?' he asked very quietly when Dynasty paused for breath.

She shot him a blue-eyed glance and her entire stance changed and softened as she reached out to him. 'Kev—'

Kevin slid away from under her grasp.

'Lulu's right, you need to make up your mind. I never know where I am with you, you chop an' change that much. Well, I can't do it anymore, Dyn! I have my own life to live, I can't just hang around waitin' on you!'

Dynasty staggered back against the stained glass behind her.

'Are you _finishin_' with me?'

Louisa's gaze swivelled to Kevin. He looked pained, his thin figure twisting as though to force out words he hated to say.

'Yeah.' It was a flat assertion with no warmth in it. 'Yeah, I am. Until you wise up an' stop messin' about.' He looked at Louisa, but there was no mischief sparkling now. 'And you, sod off to wherever you came from, you've caused nothin' but trouble and I've had it. In fact, d'you know what, I've had it with both of you!'

He shoved past, leaving Louisa and Dynasty glaring at each other, each more than ready for another round. Once again Louisa braced herself for a physical attack, she could see the fire burning in Dynasty's eyes.

_Hit me_, she challenged mentally, locking her gaze with the other girl's. _Come on, I know you want to. Hit me…_

No such luck. Dynasty might be almost quivering but her fists remained firmly clenched at her sides as she spat, 'I hope you're happy now, you've got what you wanted, you've split us up, but that's all yer gettin'. You keep away from me an' Imogen an' the rest, d'you 'ear? Or I'll find a way to get you that'll keep _this_'—she tapped her badge with a forefinger—'right where it belongs, yeah?'

She pivoted on her heel and left, making a beeline for where Connor and Imogen stood. Louisa watched her go, her eyes swivelling from Dynasty's indignant back to Kevin, who was leaning morosely against the opposite wall. The black look he sent her caused her stomach to somersault in a fashion that was anything but pleasant. Dynasty losing Kevin was one thing… but _she_ hadn't counted on losing him too.

* * *

**Senior Girls, 11.50am**

* * *

Kacey leaned against the cubicle door and extracted her phone from her pocket, her heart beating an uneven pattern that left her feeling sick and shaky. Dynasty had kept her side of the deal, she'd seen her talking and laughing with Kevin and the others, and she knew that meant her sister would expect her to do likewise and accompany into town for that shopping trip. The very thought of it made Kacey break into an icy sweat and she pulled the hoodie-cardigan she always wore under her jacket closer, chewing her lip as she put the search she'd thought of into Google. She couldn't go on that trip with Dynasty, she just couldn't, and an old memory from her last year at primary school provided a possible way out. Besides, her idea had the bonus of potentially getting her out of some or all of her (unexpected and unwelcome) lesson with Miss Spark.

Someone banged on the door. 'Kacey, are you all right?'

Lula. Of course it was. She shoved her phone into her pocket and flushed the toilet, just on general principles. 'Yeah, comin'.'

'Mrs Aspinall says everyone has to get to the lab _now_,' Lula went on.

Kacey was frowning as she opened the door and slipped out. 'Mrs Aspinall? Ain't she the new English student teacher? What's she doin' chasin' us to science?'

Lula gave one of her elegant shrugs. 'I don't know, but Harley, he thinks that Mr Clarkson has sent her to spy on Miss Spark for you. So you see,' she added, taking Kacey's arm and drawing her out of the loos and down the corridor towards the lab, 'you don't need to worry. Everything will be fine, we are _all_ looking out for you.'

Kacey rolled her eyes and allowed Lula to chivvy her over to the hexagonal desk they usually shared. She took her time about getting organised, she was still cold and shaky, and it required huge effort to lift her eyes and meet the teacher's.

It was small consolation that Miss Spark looked as scared as Kacey felt.

'We're going to try a little experiment today,' Miss Spark began nervously, her eyes flicking repeatedly over Kacey's left shoulder to where Mrs Aspinall was sitting. 'Mrs Aspinall—Mrs Aspinall is going to be watching us to see—to see if there's any ideas she'd like to borrow in her own teaching.'

'Yeah, what's that then?' someone yelled from the back. 'How to lose friends and piss people off?'

The class laughed. Miss Spark seemed to shrink where she stood.

'No, I um, I have to apologise for last week, my behaviour was … unpardonable.' Kacey grew very still. 'I—I'm truly sorry. I've, I've already apologised to Kacey, but I'd like to apologise to the rest of you as well.'

Kacey was staring fixedly at the desk but she glanced up at that to meet Harley's astonished gaze; maybe he was right about Mrs Aspinall being a spy after all. They'd never anticipated this—and neither had the rest of the class, judging by the sudden stillness.

The stillness stretched into uncomfortable silence that lingered… and lingered… until Lula nudged Kacey with a meaning look.

She pushed herself to her feet, her hands braced against the desk. Black dots swam in front of her eyes and for a moment she considered going ahead with it, she'd already been hyperventilating a bit, it wouldn't be hard to let go… until she met Miss Spark's gaze a second time and remembered her own words to Mrs Mulgrew: _she's just a kid_. It wasn't the right time just yet.

'It's—it's OK,' she stuttered. 'Please, miss, just forget it. I want to forget it, we all do, don't we?' She half turned to look at the others. Their answering murmur was hardly a ringing endorsement, but Kacey took it. 'See? Just… do whatever you were gonna do. Please.' She sat down with a thump, breathing hard, and let Miss Spark's instructions wash over her, her voice echoing eerily around Kacey's skull.

She rested her chin on her clenched fist and watched, blinking slowly as Harley and Lula made a start on the experiment. She'd been set to recording the results, but her head was so fuggy she couldn't make sense of what she was seeing, a line deepening between her brows as she struggled to concentrate.

A whoop brought her attention back to her friends, who were high-fiving each other.

'Did you see that, Kace?' Harley chortled, 'that was awesome, it went just as miss said it would—Miss, did yer see? We did it!'

Miss Spark bustled over. 'Well done, you two, brilliant, _amazing_ work.' Her tone was pitched too high and was a touch too enthusiastic. It sent an extra-sharp jab through Kacey's head and she winced.

'Did you get it written down, Kacey?' Lula asked eagerly. 'What we did, all of it?'

'Uh—'

'You didn't?' Harley's mobile face fell. 'Oh, man, ain't that just our luck!'

Miss Spark's expression hardened as she turned. 'Well, if you haven't been writing what have you been doing, Miss Barry? Sitting there dreaming?'

A wave of heat washed over Kacey at being the renewed focus of attention so quickly. 'I—I'm not feelin' very well, miss.'

'Right.' The teacher sounded decidedly sceptical. 'Well, if you're well enough to come to school—' Her raised eyebrows finished her speech with an unspoken _you're well enough to work_ and it caught Kacey on the raw.

'I'd be fine if you'd just leave us alone!'

Miss Spark turned a deep red. 'I can't do that, it's my job to make sure you learn something!'

'Yeah? Well, you're crap at it. Everyone knows you're crap—' Kacey's arm moved and she knocked her goggles to the floor.

Miss Spark's eyes popped. 'Pick them up. They'd better not be broken, they're school property!'

'Yeah, right, _dead_ expensive they'd be to replace,' Kacey scoffed, rolling her eyes at Harvey and Lula. 'Just old cheapo goggles them, they're probably only worth 50p.'

Any other teacher would have made a sarcastic response and moved on. Miss Spark took it personally, stepping nearer and dropping her voice.

'Why are you doing this? I said sorry, didn't I? Now come on, let bygones be bygones and _pick_—_them_—_up_!'

_Fine_, Kacey thought, lifting her chin. _You asked for it._

She shot to her feet, deliberately keeping her breaths quick and shallow, and crouched down just as swiftly, taking her time as she reached for the goggles. That'd nearly done it, she was still seeing stars from two abrupt changes in position.

_Keep the breathing fast_, she thought, aware of the growing roar in her ears.

'Come _on_!' Miss Spark nagged, sounding as though she was very far away. 'You've got them, what are you doing—'

Now, Kacey thought, and stood up as fast as she could physically manage. The science lab became surreal as her vision turned hazy and sound distorted, her heart fluttering frantically in her chest like a frightened bird. The last thing she saw as she plunged willingly into oblivion was Miss Spark's totally freaked out face.

* * *

_Please, please let me know what you think. It keeps me going more than anything else!_


	16. Episode 4-4

_Hi folks! I'm sorry for the delay. The option of doing major renovations on my house has popped up so I've been busy with plans etc for that this week, and I was away last. However, in future if there's going to be a delay in posting I'll put a note to that effect in the summary so that everyone can access it, regardless of whether you're signed in or not. Thanks to Guest/Guest/Sophie for making me think of it by reminding me I hadn't updated (I don't know if you're three different people, two different people, or one and the same)._

_**dreamerxox**: Still a while to go before that, I'm afraid! Kacey's storyline is gonna be more important this time round, so you'll have to wait._

_**Jessiekat89**: Yup! And no Kevasty this time round but plenty of developments coming soon._

_**Paisley**: Yay! Some story lines people should always be able to anticipate, but I'm always glad when something throws people for a loop because they really hadn't seen it coming. No quick resolution for either Kacey or Kevin and Dynasty, though._

_**Fliss**: Keep reading! It will become clear, although not immediately._

_**Sue Spark**: Awwww… Actually, more stuff coming for Sue, a storyline that several people have said they wanted to see here. :)_

_**Liz**: Miss Spark's life is about to get even more messed up!_

* * *

**Miss Spark's room, 12.20pm**

* * *

Mika was roused from her absorption in her own work by Lula Tsibi's unmistakable voice demanding, 'What are you all standing there for? You have to _do_ something!'

It was all she needed. She charged through the increasingly noisy phalanx of kids to a nearly hysterical Sue's side—only to stop short at the sight of an unconscious Kacey on the floor.

'What happened?'

Sue could only shake her head, her lips clamped thin. She seemed to be hanging on to what was left of her control by her fingertips, leaving little energy for anything else.

Mika turned to Lula, who was standing glaring at Sue.

'What happened?' she asked a second time, her tone sharpening as she knelt by Kacey. 'Did she pass out?'

'She was havin' an argument wiv '_er_,' Harley spat over Kacey's prone body, sending a hostile glance towards the Science teacher. 'An' she said she wasn't feeling good but miss wouldn't let 'er be, an' now _this_!' His mouth twisted as he jumped to his feet. 'An' yous are just standing there, about as much good as a dead fish! I'm goin' for Mrs Mulgrew—'

Sue whimpered, but Mika ignored her as Kacey started to stir

'Wait,' Mika ordered when Kacey opened her eyes and stared blearily at the ceiling, 'she's coming round now. No need to disturb Mrs Mulgrew yet, eh?'

Harley fell to his knees beside his friend once again and Mika took advantage of it to hiss at Sue, 'For God's sake get the rest of them to shut up or Christine _will_ land in here, I'm surprised she's not here already!'

Sue's white face scalded deep purple, but Mika ceased to pay attention when Kacey asked, weakly, 'What 'appened?'

'You blacked out,' Lula answered. 'One moment you were fine and the next… you were gone!' She leaned forward, peering at the other girl. 'I think you hit your head, does it hurt?'

Mika glanced at her quickly. A faint was one thing but possible concussion quite another…

Kacey was rubbing her forehead fretfully, a line deepening between her brows. 'I—I dunno.'

'You're probably not thinking straight,' Mika told her. 'Come on, let's get you to the medical room. Sit up… _slowly_, Kacey!' as the girl tried to obey too quickly and her eyes threatened to roll back inside her head. 'We'll need to get the nurse to see you—'

Kacey's confusion evaporated. She grabbed Mika's arm, so hard that it hurt. 'No, please, I just turned funny that's all, I don't need to see no nurse—'

'You passed out, we can't just ignore it!'

'It's not the first time she's done it neither,' Harley said, earning himself an unfriendly glance. 'She did it last term in one of Mrs M's lessons.'

'Then we _definitely_ can't leave it,' Mika said. 'You've got to tell someone, Kacey. Take your pick: Mr Lowsley, Mr Clarkson, the nurse or your sister. Which is it gonna be?'

An odd expression ghosted over Kacey's face. 'Dynasty. Just Dynasty'll be fine, she'll take of us, no-one else needs to know, do they? It was just a faint, girls faint all the time!'

'But you've hit your head!' Lula argued.

Kacey waved that off. 'It was nothin', it don't even hurt no more. Is there a mark?'

Mika leaned closer to examine the girl's head, allowing her fingers to run gently over her scalp. 'It doesn't seem too bad, you've a tiny red mark but no bump.'

'See? I'm good, I'm a Barry. Takes more than a little knock like that to damage us. Can I get up?'

'Provided you do it _slowly_,' Mika informed her, rising herself and extending a hand to help the girl up. 'That's it. Come on, I'll take you the medical room, if that's OK with Miss Spark?' She looked at the other teacher, who nodded. 'And if someone can get Dynasty from the hall—'

'I'll get 'er, miss,' Harley offered. Sue looked as though she was about to protest, but Mika was too quick; she'd already said that was fine and Harley had gone, leaving Sue looking awkward.

Not that Mika cared. Any respect she'd had for Sue was fast disappearing. She'd deal with her later and in the meantime there was a newly acquiescent Kacey clinging to her arm, content to accompany her to the medical room. Mika frowned and wished she'd been paying more attention earlier. Harley's explanation for Kacey's faint didn't quite tally with the expression she'd seen on the girl's face… almost as if she was _pleased_ that Dynasty would be summoned. Pleased, and … relieved?

With that suspicion niggling in her brain, she watched the interaction between the sisters closely when Dynasty appeared, overflowing with concern.

'Was it that bitch Spark again?' the older girl demanded, taking her sister's head in her hands and turning it gently from side to side. 'Harley said you 'urt yer head—'

'It was nothin', Dyn,' Kacey protested again. 'I just turned funny, I'm fine now.'

'Not fine enough for me,' her sister declared. 'You're takin' it quiet for the rest of the day, you 'ear?'

'I'm not sittin' in here all day!'

'Fine, but no racing around in lessons, kiddo, and there'll be no shopping later, either. When the bell goes, we're goin' home. You're lookin' a bit peaked, I'm worried about yer.'

If Mika hadn't been watching for it, she'd have missed it. Kacey's head was dipped, but not so much that Mika was unable to see the swift smile that appeared when Dynasty cancelled their shopping trip, and the older woman's eyes widened. Kacey had engineered this whole episode, she was absolutely sure of it … but why? To get back at Sue? Or to avoid a trip with her sister? Or perhaps both?

* * *

**Miss Spark's room, 12.40pm**

* * *

Sue sat at her desk, her white coat wrapped tightly around her, and stared blankly at the grain of her bench. Every sound coming from outside the door made her flinch; any moment now Christine Mulgrew or Simon or Tom would land in on her and demand an explanation… and she wasn't sure which possibility she dreaded most.

Christine, she was sure, would be complacent. Tom would be patient and pitying and probably have someone sit in all her lessons as if she was still a PGCE student. _That_ thought made Sue cringe; it made a mockery of the qualified teacher status she'd fought so hard to gain. And then there was _Simon_…

She hunched over her bench, digging the nails of one hand into the flesh of the other, welcoming the sharp discomfort. It lessened the pain of her thoughts. Simon didn't love her anymore, perhaps he never had. She'd been there for him after his mum died but now that he was moving out of his fog of grief and anger he didn't seem to need (or want) her any longer, she was just dragging him down, she could tell. She'd seen that same distracted kindness from other men at other times and she knew what it meant. It wouldn't be long, he'd finish with her soon, he just needed a good reason so that he could focus on his beloved Waterloo Road. If he found out about today it would be the final straw.

She clapped her hands tightly over her mouth, determined not to cry _again_.

'Sue!'

She started and her stool wobbled dangerously, causing her heartbeat to rocket as she grabbed the edge of the workbench to steady herself; it slowed as she recognised her visitor. 'Is she OK?'

Mika leaned against the door, closing it. 'Yeah, Dynasty's looking after her. Are _you_ OK?'

The concern broke through Sue's determination to maintain a stiff upper lip and she began to stutter and gabble. 'I—I don't know what happened, she was giving me cheek, Mika! I told her off, I'm allowed to tell her off, aren't I? I'm still a teacher… You were here, you saw! You'll tell them, won't you?'

Mika frowned. 'Tell who?'

'Tom and Simon and Christine Mulgrew and—and all those old biddies in the staffroom who've got it in for me. You'll tell them, won't you? It wasn't my fault this time, they have to know it wasn't my fault!' The other woman remained quiet and Sue felt panic well anew. 'Do you believe me? It wasn't my fault, I swear it wasn't, please believe me, you're my only friend here—'

'Hey, calm down!' Mika interrupted and Sue gasped, trying to regain her breath. 'You carry on like that and _you'll_ be the one on the floor—' She broke off, but Sue didn't care.

'_Promise_ you won't tell?'

'Yeah, sure,' Mika said, but so absently that it did little to reassure Sue.

A second wave of emotion swamped her and she found herself spitting, 'What am I doing, how stupid can I get. I nearly forgot, you're Tom Clarkson's stepdaughter… I heard the kids saying you were spying for him. Is that what it was? Are you trying to get me fired?'

Mika was blinking at her. 'What?'

'That's it!' Sue declared wildly. 'I'm such an idiot, of course you are, you're doing it for him—and _her_.'

'Sue, are you all right?' Mika asked. 'Stop freaking out about this. Seriously, you're starting to freak _me_ out—'

'That's easy for you to say, you're everyone's golden girl, it all comes so easily for you—'

Mika's laugh was harsh. 'How do you know?'

Her tone should have been a warning, but Sue was too distraught to notice. 'I'm not blind, am I? I can see the way Tom dotes on you, even Simon likes you, he's said so. You're a student, you're desperate for a job next year, all PGCE students are. They'll do anything to get one, I should know. My dad's cut the salary budget, there won't be any new staff next year unless someone goes. You want a job here and the only way you'll get it is if I'm gone—'

Mika was staring, open-mouthed. 'You're crazy!'

Sue gave a little scream. 'I am so—so—_sick_ of people saying that!'

'Can you blame them when you carry on like that, it's bang out of order! What if a kid came in—'

'The kids, the kids, it's all about the sodding kids! What about _me_?' Tears were streaming down her face by this time, mingling unattractively with snot. She'd never been able to cry prettily in the way her sisters or Louisa could.

Mika looked disgusted.

'You shouldn't be here,' she said flatly. 'You're not fit to teach, or even be a teacher at all. It's not about your stupid experiments or being able to give orders and homework and prance about behind that workbench of yours, it's those "sodding kids" that matter, not you!' She pivoted sharply on her heel, one hand reaching for the door.

Sue's thoughts were moving so sluggishly that Mika was nearly gone before she was able to call, 'Y-you n-never p-promised—'

The other woman gave her a long, level look. 'After everything you've just said? What planet are you on?' She shook her head and allowed the door to slam behind her, leaving Sue once again clinging desperately to her workbench, one hand digging into the inner pocket of her bag for the bubble pack she kept there 'for luck'.

* * *

**Head's Office, 1.00pm**

* * *

A knock followed by his name made Simon glance up from his laptop screen, his neglected sandwiches sitting forlornly nearby.

'Are you busy? Could I have a word?' Mika Aspinall asked, a smile hovering around her lips.

Simon felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. He liked Mika; liked her smile, her confidence, the sparkle of her blue eyes… she seemed to be all the things that Sue wasn't.

'Sure, make yourself at home.' He watched as she settled opposite him. 'Won't you get in trouble for consorting with the enemy?'

She raised an eyebrow. 'I'm Tom's stepdaughter, not his keeper. As for him and Christine… well.' She shrugged. 'It's early days, isn't it?'

Simon was surprised. 'It doesn't seem that way.'

Mika rolled her eyes. 'Look, I love Tom, I do, he's the nearest thing Chlo and I have had to a proper dad since our mum died, but he's a sucker for lost causes. Christine isn't the first needy woman he's taken up with. He can't resist vulnerability.'

Now it was Simon's turn to look quizzical. 'Don't underestimate her. Christine Mulgrew is a hell of a lot more than just another victim, and God knows she and Tom got put through the wringer last term.' He couldn't help the tinge of guilt that coloured his tone, and she eyed him askance. 'Never mind. So. What did you want to talk to me about?'

'Maybe I just wanted some company without the parentals?' she grinned. 'When I'm in the staffroom it feels as if every disapproving female relative I've ever had is in there, staring like some cabal, _watching_ me…' She gave an exaggerated shudder. 'Gives us the creeps.'

Simon grinned. 'Yeah, that's what Sue says.' A beat. 'Only she takes it so seriously, she can't joke about it like you've just done. I wish she'd lighten up.'

Mika was tracing a pattern on his desk, and Simon's heart gave an extra-hard thump. 'Mika?'

She looked up slowly. 'I'm glad you mentioned Sue.'

Now all his senses were on full alert. 'Is there a problem?'

Mika's lashes fluttered down, veiling her eyes. 'I don't want to get her in trouble—'

Simon groaned, burying his head in his hands. 'What's happened now?'

'It's not really my place to say, I'm just a student—'

'Please, Mika.' Simon hoped he didn't sound as anxious as he felt. Sue was his Achilles' heel at Waterloo Road, his weak point, the one thing that prevented him from being able to put the past behind him and move on. 'If there's been more trouble and you know, please tell me. If Tom or—or anyone else found out—'

'Kacey Barry passed out in Science,' Mika said, and Simon's belly crawled. _Worse and worse_… 'Harley Taylor said it was because of something she'd said.'

Simon managed to bite back another groan.

'Was it? Were you there?'

'Yeah… but I wasn't really watching,' Mika admitted sheepishly. 'Tom had put me in to observe, something about cross-curricular teaching methods, but I… well, I decided to work on my literacy essay for college instead.' She eyed him through her lashes. 'You won't drop us in it, will you?'

'Not if you don't,' Simon said, ruefully, and they exchanged a smile of fellowship, momentary co-conspirators. 'I wish she'd give it up,' he confessed in a rush. 'She's only teaching because her dad blackmailed her into it after her mum died, she was much happier as a flight attendant. And for her to be teaching _here_—' He shook his head.

'It can't be easy,' Mika said softly. 'She reflects badly on you, doesn't she.'

'Yeah, that's it. That's exactly the problem. And even though it was Christine who appointed her, sometimes I feel they've forgotten that and every time Sue messes up, it's another crime to be laid at my door.'

'She's really struggling, Simon. I mean, I'm just a student and even _I_ can see how much she's struggling. She doesn't seem to get these kids at all, it's as if she thinks they're from a different planet or something, it's a miracle there hasn't been a major disaster yet. She might be off the hook with Kacey, Harley said Kacey passed out last term as well, but she can't get lucky _every_ time.'

'Tom said something about putting you together for CPD?'

Mika shrugged. 'Yeah, but…!' She rolled her eyes.

'You think you're ahead of her?'

'It sounds dead arrogant, but yeah. Guess so.' She chewed her lip. 'She's only a year ahead of me, after all.'

'Not even that,' Simon said, the relief of talking about Sue to someone who actually seemed to be on _his_ side overcoming caution and common-sense. 'She only qualified officially at Christmas. She failed her second placement and spent last term repeating it.'

Mika's eyes widened. 'You're kidding.'

'Nope.' Simon regarded his sandwiches dolefully. 'Wish I was. If it hadn't been for Robert's manipulations there's no way she'd have got a job here, I know that for a fact.' He sighed, unwilling to incriminate himself in Mika's eyes by saying _I encouraged him to lie to Christine because I wanted revenge, back when my head was all over the place and Sue seemed the only good thing in my life…_

'Couldn't she go back to air hostessing?'

Simon took a bite of his sandwich and grimaced. The tomato had turned the bread soggy. 'No. Robert's threatened to cut off her allowance if she tries. We're stuck. In more ways than one.'

Mika leaned forward, catching his gaze with hers. 'Well, if you need to talk…'

He smiled, ridiculously grateful for her sympathy. 'Thanks. That means a lot, believe me.'

She rose. 'I've got to go, Tom'll be looking for us. Listen, tell me to back off, but if you want to talk more… I'm free for dinner?'

He blinked, unsure whether to be flattered or disconcerted. She did know about Sue and him, he was certain of it, and she was supposed to be Sue's friend. Was she coming on to him or just being a mate?

All at once he found he didn't care. The thought of returning to the oppressiveness of the Spark home that evening laid a weight on his chest. Just one night of freedom, of being able to laugh and breathe without worrying about offending or hurting or putting a foot wrong… it'd be sheer heaven. It was only one night after all.

'Yeah, yeah, that'd be awesome, you've no idea.'

Mika's smile went from ear to ear. 'Really?'

Simon gave a decided nod. 'Absolutely. Meet you at four, here?'

Two dimples appeared in her cheeks. How could he have failed to notice them before? 'I'll be here.' She walked towards the door and halted by it, sending him a glance over her shoulder. 'I can't wait.'

Simon's tongue ran away with him before he'd time to think. 'You know what? Neither can I!'

He was still grinning when she left. That was the important thing, she made him smile. When was the last time he'd smiled at the mere thought of Sue?

* * *

**TBC, of course. **

**Don't forget to let me know what you think. Not too happy with this episode as a whole; it does seem a bit slow. Next time: Tom does some thinking, Connor and Simon have another chat—and Christine lands in the middle of it all!**


	17. Episode 4-5

_I always say that writing begets writing. The more you write, the more you want to write and _can_ write. Thus, after struggling over the last bit, I've been able to knock this part out very quickly. Actually, it's been sitting complete on the computer for a couple of days while I tinkered with it!_

_Anyway…_

_**loveistheprotection**: Afraid Sue is staying put! I have plans! And more Christine/Tom coming right up—the next chapters will return to being very Mulgrew-centric, with the usual side of Dynasty and Co._

_**Paisley**: Writing a losing-it Sue is a lot of fun. Maybe that's why her character deteriorated in the show._

_**Jessiekat89**: So do I!_

_**Sophie**: Thank you! Quick update this time round. I always find Mulgrew-centric stuff easier to write._

_**Sue Spark**: *whistles innocently*_

_**SOPH**: What I like is the fact that you can feel sorry for her and say she deserved it in the same er, breath. That's the kind of reaction I want._

_**chantelucy**: Thought you'd like that!_

* * *

**Hall, 2.15pm**

* * *

Connor wandered disconsolately from one stall to another until he found himself in front of the big notice board. Most of his peers were attending the talk given by Strathclyde's admission tutor but he'd cried off, taking advantage of the fact that the staff were trusting them to go without being chased. Imogen had considered crying off too, just for him, but he hadn't let her. She cared about uni; he was increasingly sure that he did not. Academia was starting to terrify him, even the sight of his textbooks made him feel sick. Only creating with his hands calmed him; he was at peace when he painted or sketched or cooked—but what use was that? You had to be majorly awesome at those things to make a living at them, and he wasn't much more than average. Just like he wasn't much more than average at his studies, no matter what his wife and mother said.

'Hey,' someone said from behind him and he turned, automatically stiffening at the sight of Mr Lowsley. 'Shouldn't you—?' The older man jerked his curly head in the direction of the lecture theatre.

Connor shrugged. 'Couldn't be bothered. I'm not applying there anyway.'

'They'd have good advice for applying anywhere,' Mr Lowsley pointed out.

'So? I'm not goin' to uni.' Connor blinked, startled at himself. It was the first time he'd actually articulated it. It felt so good he said it again: 'I'm not going to uni!'

The Head folded his arms. 'OK. So what are you gonna do?'

Connor's shoulders slumped. 'Dunno, sir. That's the trouble.'

Mr Lowsley frowned. 'Right. Well, let's think about this. You've got good GCSEs, you're on course for reasonable A'levels… You don't want to do a degree, that's fine, but you've got to do something. I don't think your mum's expecting to pay for you the rest of your life!'

Connor's lips twitched at that. 'She'd hate it.' It was said flatly. 'I'm not expecting her to support me and Imogen, I want to do that myself. But I don't know what to _do_, sir, I'm just so crap at _everything_!'

'Rubbish. I've heard you're a good artist?'

'Not good enough,' Connor snapped. 'Only got a B at GCSE and Mum wouldn't let us do it for A'level.'

'Ah.' Mr Lowlsey's brows came together. 'What else d'you like? You don't need to base a career on something you've studied at school, you know.'

Connor's eyes fell on a notice that he'd barely skimmed before, the one that announced the forthcoming bake-off. '_That_,' he tapped it. 'I like cooking and baking and stuff.' He glanced up at Mr Lowsley. 'I've had to do a lot of it when Mum—well, you know.'

The Head nodded. 'Yeah, me too.' He shifted so that he was standing abreast with Connor. 'You any good? I was crap, fed myself on beans and toast mainly.'

Connor's lips quirked. 'Yeah, that's what I did when I was a kid. Then I realised that I liked making sauces, everything tastes OK with a sauce. It went from there. I'm happy when I'm cooking, it's like magic, it's like your first Chemistry lesson when you add this to that and suddenly it's something else—only it's better because you can eat it—you _hope_,' he ended on a note of rueful caution.

Mr Lowsley grinned. 'You sound really excited about it.' He indicated the notice. 'Are you doing it?'

Connor's face fell as he took in the details. 'It's next week during my mum's English lesson. She'd never let us off, she thinks anything that isn't proper academia is a waste of time.'

Mr Lowsley leaned in. 'What your mum doesn't know is that there won't be any English lesson for your lot. Mr Clarkson and I have decided that yourselves and Year 11 will get the morning off lessons so that anyone who wants can have a go.'

Connor couldn't believe his ears. 'You're gonna let us have the morning off from English and History and all to _cook_?'

'Yeah, why not? All that English and History is no good if you starve to death, right?'

'That's… that's just totally _epic_!'

Unable to contain himself, Connor found himself high-fiving his Headteacher, both grinning widely. Exhilaration bubbled within him; almost an entire day of doing nothing but cooking, and no matter how bad he was he was dead sure he'd be miles better than most of his contemporaries—

His mother's voice behind him, pointed and sharp, was like a needle in a balloon.

'Connor, what the hell are you doing here?'

He wheeled to face her, colour scalding cheeks, his mouth opening and closing like a suffocating goldfish.

'Christine—' Mr Lowsley tried.

She sent him a withering look, the one that always shrivelled Connor's soul. 'I wasn't talking to you, Simon. I was talking to my son, who _should_ have been in the lecture theatre with the rest of Year 12!'

'Tell her,' Mr Lowsley encouraged, and Connor winced as his mother's eyes widened as they went from Simon to him and back again.

'Connor, have you been talking to him? _Him_?'

Mr Lowsley attempted to intervene a second time. 'Come on, Christine, I'm his headteacher, it's allowed—'

It was a wasted effort, as Connor had known it would be. In this mood his mum was unstoppable. She reached out to grab his wrist, her fingers enclosing it like talons.

'This is a family matter, Simon, it's nothing to do with you. And you, you're coming with me—_now_!' She was moving as she talked, dragging him out of the hall, down the corridor and into the pastoral care room.

The door had no sooner closed than she laid into him. 'As if everything else wasn't bad enough, you've got to go running to _Simon Lowsley_, Connor? Simon bloody _Lowsley_? Was it too much to expect a little loyalty from my own son?'

He flinched. She always knew just how to get past his defences, exactly how to find the words that would wound, but he wasn't going to let her do it this time.

'It's nothing to do with loyalty, Mum, not everything's about you, when will you get that?'

'No? I'm not a fool, even if you're trying to make me one. I was standing listening to that conversation of yours, I heard the pair of you gloating about how this stupid bake-off would get you out of important things like English and History… and, again, Connor, _why_ are you even talking to him in the first place? Have you forgotten what that man did to us last term? Has that suddenly stopped _mattering_?'

'There were reasons for that!' he shouted. 'He explained what happened and I get it, I'm not gonna become you, carrying old wounds and grudges my whole life long!'

His mother folded her arms, her lips pinching. 'A _reason_, eh? A reason that would excuse what he did to me, what he almost did to you? Care to share this … _reason_?'

Her tone was so mocking that Connor couldn't stand it.

'He gets me, Mum, in ways you never can—and d'you know why? He's been through it, he knows what this is like from my side. He was messed up last term, his mum had just died. From _drink_!' He spat the last word into his mother's face and watched as she recoiled, sinking limply into one the soft teal green chairs that lined the room.

'What?'

'Yeah,' he said in a hard tone. 'His mum was a drunk too, just like you.'

'I'm—I'm recovering,' she stammered. 'You know I am.'

'Yeah? Then why did I find not one but two empty bottles of vodka in the bin the last time I was home?'

She reached out to grab his wrist again, but this time her hold was gentle, almost tentative. 'I didn't drink those, son. Not all of them.' Her lips quivered. 'I won't lie, I've been struggling since Barry—'

'And even with that you actually thought about having another kid?' Connor shook his head. 'You're _unbelievable_. Does Tom know, have you been leading the poor guy up the garden path? He wants to marry you, Mum!'

His mother's head snapped up. '_What_?'

'Oh… .' He ran his fingers through his hair and sent her a resentful look. 'I shouldn't have said that. See, this is what you do to me, you get me so wound up I can't think straight!'

'Connor. Please.' She held out a hand. 'Come on, son, sit down.'

He stared at her for a long moment before obeying, taking one of the chairs beside her. She was still his mum; she could always get to him and he was, as he had always been, powerless to resist.

* * *

**Mr Clarkson's office, 2.30pm**

* * *

Tom _should_ have been catching up with the unending paperwork that was the lot of any self-respecting deputy head and teacher, but instead he was sitting staring at the small velvet-covered box in front of him, recalling Connor's reaction to said box earlier in the day.

'What's that?' the boy had demanded, ignoring the sharp jab sent his way by Imogen.

Tom's smile had faltered. 'Isn't it obvious?'

Imogen rolled her eyes. 'Yeah, dead obvious, he's just being a div.' She gave her husband another poke in the ribs and he edged away, still eying the little box in Tom's hand as if it was poisonous.

Tom had swallowed hard. 'Connor? Come on, mate, don't keep us in suspense. What do you think?'

The younger man groaned and eased back to sit on the lip of a desk. 'I think… I think it'd be amazing,' he began cautiously, 'but… don't take this the wrong way, isn't it awful _soon_?'

'And you and Imogen had known each other for _how_ long?' Tom barked, uncharacteristically defensive. 'Your mum and I have known each other nearly a year and a half, it's not as if we've just hooked up!'

Connor's knuckles were white as he clutched the desk edge. 'If you ask her you've gotta be dead sure it's forever. You can't mess this up, Tom, she'd never get over it.'

Imogen moved to link her arm with Connor's. 'He's right, Tom. No offence, but the two of you are hardly a fairy tale, are you? I don't know about you, but Christine's been married and left and divorced before, I don't think an engagement ring is gonna make her forget all that.'

'No. No, of course not.' Feeling idiotic, Tom pocketed the ring.

Connor leaned forward, his changeable eyes intent. 'I'm not saying don't ask,' he said, a half-smile hovering, 'I'm saying maybe… not yet?' He glanced at his wife. 'You mentioned me and Imogen, but we'd already been through all the stuff with Mum and the fire and everything, we knew if we could get over that and still love each other we could get over anything.' Imogen punctuated his words with a decided nod and Connor's smile broadened. 'If you and Mum are sure… dead, proper sure… then go for it, man. I like you, I like what you've done for her, but askin' her because you think she's scared, well, that's just _wrong_. Wrong and stupid.'

Tom had blown out a sigh that turned into a rueful smile as he eyed the two teenagers before him. 'I tell you what, this role-reversal thing is getting old.' He shook his head. 'You're right, Connor. Absolutely right. There's no rush, is there? We need time and thanks to your mum's demotion, we've got it. Should be concentrating on having fun, eh?' He gave a meaning wink and the pained grimaces he got in return made him feel better. At least some things remained constant.

'Just don't rub our noses in it,' Connor told him austerely—but the austerity split into a grin as he lurched forward to give Tom an awkward hug, muttering, 'For the record, I hope you ask her, when you're ready. And I hope she says yes.' He'd left then, Imogen following behind, having given Tom yet more food for thought.

A rush of pride went through him now as he thought of them, of their maturity and common sense and simple courage. They were good kids and he was proud to be involved in their lives in any capacity…

'Tom?'

He jerked up, one hand skating the little box off the desk and into his pocket. 'Yeah.' His eyebrows lifted as he took in the expression on Simon's face. 'Problem?'

'Not … sure. It's uh, Christine and Connor. They're in pastoral care, perhaps you could, er, run along and smooth things over?'

* * *

**Pastoral Care, 2.40pm**

* * *

'We've got to stop doing this, son,' Christine said softly. 'We're only hurting each other.'

'I know.' Connor's tone was gruff, he was sitting in that hunched fashion she knew so well.

'H'mmm.' She rubbed his back. 'I'm sorry,' she said gently. 'It was thoughtless, I should've stopped to think how a baby might make you feel… What will it take for you to stop doubting me, eh? What happened to me _wasn't your fault_. How many times do I need to say it?'

'You don't need to,' he said, still sounding gruff. 'I _know_, Mum.' His glance was quick, almost shy. ''M sorry too, I was bein' a pillock. You were right, I'm practically grown up and you deserve to have the life you should've had in the first place, and if Tom—' he caught himself and broke off. This time the glance he sent Christine wasn't so much shy as startled-rabbit-preparing-to-bolt.

'Ah, yes. Tom.' She kept her voice gentle and her hand continued to rub, knowing that it would soothe her son, perhaps enough that he might feel able to reveal more. 'What's that about?'

Her ploy failed. Connor's lips tightened and his head dropped.

'Oh, come on,' she urged. 'You can tell me, what's he been saying? About wanting to marry me?' She couldn't quite suppress her amazed incredulity and Connor shot her a look.

'You don't need to sound so surprised!'

Christine bit into her lip, touched by his indignation on her behalf. 'Oh, Connor…' She pulled him close, her forehead resting against his. 'Come home, son. Please. No matter what I said, I—I miss you.'

She could feel the tension in him, warning her as he drew back. 'Not yet. Don't look like that, let me explain. I'm not trying to hurt you, honest. I think we need some space, you an' me. And it's not fair on Sally if me and Imogen are always at ours, is it?'

Grudgingly, Christine shook her head.

'I'm not leaving you,' Connor insisted. 'Be good for you and Tom too, you need time without always tripping over me and Imogen—or us tripping over you,' he added and she rolled her eyes. He had a point there, she had to admit. 'And please don't go mad, but I think we need to do the counselling again. All of us, you and Tom and me and Imogen. What d'you think?'

'You think we need to—_why_?' Christine gasped, genuinely taken aback. Counselling last time had been a form of hell—albeit necessary hell—and she was in no hurry to revisit it.

Connor's gaze was steady. ''Cos it was _family_ counselling, wasn't it? And our family's changed and everything's different. Honestly, I think it'd help.'

She heaved a sigh. 'Fine. Fine, if that's what you want. If Tom and Imogen agree.'

'Really? You're not just saying that?'

'Would I do that?' Connor gave her such a sceptical look that she burst out laughing. 'OK, OK! Yes, I promise, if counselling's what you want, counselling's what we'll do.'

'Great.' Her son's habitual gravity melted into a beam. 'Great. Awesome.' His shoulders lost their tense look, as though he'd been carrying a burden that had just lifted. It was a feeling she shared and she allowed herself to lean closer to him, so that they touched.

Their peaceful moment was interrupted by Tom poking his head around the door, his expression turning confused.

'You're not arguing,' he observed as he entered.

The Mulgrews exchanged a glance.

'We're just having a little mother-son time,' Christine said, reaching across to give Connor's hand a squeeze. The smile she got in return warmed her heart.

'Right.' Tom still seemed uncertain. 'Simon says—' Christine and Connor exchanged a second look and spluttered. Tom grinned. 'Clearly he says wrong.' He came to perch on the arm of Christine's chair. 'Everyone good?'

Christine raised her eyes to his. 'We'll… get there. We always do, don't we, son?'

'Eventually.' Connor's lips quirked. 'Imogen'd say we don't communicate enough.'

'She'd be right,' Christine agreed with a sigh, thinking of the crossed wires and tangled emotions that all too often characterised their relationship. 'I hate to say it but… more counselling might not be such a bad idea.'

'You two are gonna go back?' Tom sounded surprised.

'Not just us,' Christine said. 'You and Imogen as well. As Connor says, you're part of this family now. Aren't you?'

'You have to ask?' Tom leaned in for a kiss and Connor made a sound of mock disgust.

'Right, if yous are gonna start making out I'm out of here. I need to find Imogen anyway,' he added as he reached the door. 'I'll call you later, Mum?'

She gave a single nod, touching her fingers to her lips and away. 'Sure. Take care, son.'

'He's not coming home?'

Christine turned back to Tom. 'No. He… wants some space. And to give us some as well.' She shook her head. 'It's odd but it's as if… as if he's just grown up over the past week, become a man while I wasn't looking.' She blinked, startled to find her eyes were wet. 'I've lost my little boy.'

Tom moved to kneel before her. 'Christine—'

'H'mm?' Her heart was thumping extra hard against her ribs.

His hands closed over hers. 'Kids need a good, secure, stable home life, right?'

She nodded, biting back a sob. 'Yeah.'

'And you and me, we can do that. For your kids. For our kids, if we have them… but Chris… we're not there yet. I don't think we're ready. I don't think _you're_ ready.'

'No.' Her throat was tight as she made the admission; emotion strangled her, making it impossible to say more.

'Oh, come here, you.' Tom rose, pulling her with him and into his arms. 'This changes nothing,' he murmured, his breath warm as it wafted through her hair to brush her skin. 'I love you. I'm not going anywhere… but you need to believe it. Not just know it, but _believe_ it. _That's_ when we'll talk about kids.'

'Yeah.' Christine's voice caught anew as she thought, _And what about marriage?_

But he made no mention of it, pulling back to suggest that she might like to go back on the Pill, so as to not cramp their style. She laughed—as she knew he expected her to—and wound her arms around his neck, staring blankly over his shoulder. After what he'd said, she wasn't going to tell him that it might already be too late.

* * *

**And that's the end of Episode Four! In the next episode: It's the day of the Great Waterloo Road Bake-Off ... which results in a lot more than simply a new vocation for Connor. Don't forget to let me know what you think... and I'm still looking for ideas for Sue in particular. Short of killing her off, that is. As I said, I has plans. **


	18. Episode 5-1

_Thanks for your reviews! I really am grateful. I know the pace this time is very different from last time and it's great that people stick with this, even through the slow times. Hopefully you'll enjoy this episode at any rate, even if it starts quiet…_

_Review responses:_

_**Annis**: Hi! *waves* Unusual name you've got there. Ever read the _Chalet School_ series? That's the only other time I've come across it. As for updates, I usually update once a week, very occasionally twice. Glad you're enjoying!_

_**keepingitsweet**: Well, your wait is over. Here you go!_

_**gemma**: I'm actually enjoying writing her much more than expected. Lots of Sue coming soon—but not this time._

_**Paisley**: *smirk* Mental breakdown for Sue, h'mm? I'm saying nothing…_

_**Jessiekat89**: Who knows! Sometimes _I'm_ not even sure. H'mm, that's an idea, doing something with Robert and Sue's general crappiness. Have to consider that, thanks. Some potential there!_

* * *

**Mulgrew Household, 7.10am**

* * *

Christine glanced furtively at the bathroom door as she opened her cabinet. With only herself and Tom in the house they'd taken to leaving the door unlocked; if he found it locked against him he would wonder, but she didn't want him to catch her as she stood and dithered, yet again, over the sealed pregnancy test she held.

_It's too soon_. _There's no definite proof, just a feeling_—

A feeling that could be wrong.

She replaced the test in its box and shut the cabinet doors softly, conscious of a rush of relief that Tom hadn't come in. Things had been awkward since the week before. Not tense, because they hadn't argued, just… awkward, the air occasionally heavy with the weight of things unsaid. Or perhaps she was imagining that too.

For the first time in many years she found herself missing her mother. If only there was another woman of her age or more that she trusted enough to ask, _What does early pregnancy feel like? What's the beginning of menopause like?_ It was a cruel joke that the symptoms of one could masquerade as the other, and Christine realised that she knew nothing—absolutely nothing—of her family's gynaecological history at a time when that knowledge could be vital. Her memories of her first pregnancy were unreliable, clouded by time and circumstance, and it wasn't as if she could turn to Maggie or Audrey, fond as she was of both. It revived an old pain to realise anew that there was no-one else.

'Hey, breakfast's ready,' Tom said, poking his head in the door. 'Eggs and toast, just as you like 'em. Coming?'

Christine forced her lips to curve into a smile. 'Sure.'

He held out a hand and pulled her through the door, down the stairs, and into the kitchen, where he steered her to the table which was set and ready.

'If you were the kids I'd be getting suspicious,' she noted as she sat down. 'Cutlery out, flowers and newspapers and all!'

'I've got a good feeling about today,' Tom said, putting down the plates and seating himself. 'This could be our last morning like this, somethin' tells me that Connor and Imogen are ready to move home.'

'Oh, I hope so,' Christine breathed, glancing down to hide the pesky tears that came so easily of late.

'_Ouch_!' Tom clutched melodramatically at his chest. 'Aren't I enough for you?'

'Idiot.' She kicked him under the table, aware her spirits were rising, and examined her breakfast. 'It's not burnt!'

'Well, thanks for your confidence!' Tom's grin removed any edge from his sarcastic tone. 'Did well, didn't I? You can tell Connor I listened to his lectures after all.'

Christine grimaced and put down her fork, her pleasure in the perfectly-cooked eggs suddenly dented. 'Oh, God, it's the bake-off today, isn't it? And Connor wants to do it.'

'He's dead keen,' Tom said through a mouthful of food. 'Imogen told me he's been cooking for them all week at Sally's.'

'Instead of doing his English coursework, no doubt.'

'There's more to life than coursework.'

Christine fired him a glance, annoyed. '_Yes_, but you know as well as I do that Connor and his A'levels haven't been on the best of terms lately. Just look at his mock results. He should be spending his free time working on that, not chopping carrots!'

'Maybe he's changed his mind about what he wants to do,' Tom began carefully, and Christine's eyes narrowed as she studied him.

'What's that supposed to mean? What's he said?'

'To me? Not a word.' A beat. 'As it happens, it was to Simon, he said Connor'd decided he doesn't want to go to uni.'

Christine's lips tightened and she pushed a bit of toast around her plate before putting down her knife and fork. 'Thanks for breakfast.' She started to shove her chair back when Tom grabbed her hand, holding her in place.

'Chris, stop a minute and think. You go off like this, you're gonna head for Connor later and give him an earful—oh yes you will, I know that look in your eye by now—and any hope of having the kids back will be blown to bits. D'you want that?'

She opened her mouth to argue and found she couldn't. 'No.'

'Well then? Come on, love, would it really be so bad if Connor turned into the next Jamie Oliver?'

'And what happens when people start asking where he learned to cook, have you thought of that? It's not as if he can go on about his mum and his granny and all the nice kitchen smells he grew up with!'

'Well, you can be sure he won't say it's because his mum's an alcoholic!' Christine's eyes widened and Tom shook his head. 'That's what you're thinking, isn't it? For God's sake, give him some credit. You said it yourself last week, he's grown up. He's got more sense than to say that—or at least that bluntly. If it happens he'll deal with it and so will we—but it's his choice, Christine. You've got to let the lad lead his own life or I'm warning you, you'll lose him. D'you hear what I'm saying?'

She wanted to yell that he didn't know what he was talking about, but the trouble was that he _did_. He'd already been through some of this with Josh, and he'd been part of the Mulgrews' lives long enough to know how they operated.

'Fine.' She sat down again, her lips pinched. 'What do you suggest?'

He refilled her cup. 'Drink up for a start, we're early. Just… show some interest? I know it's not what you wanted for him—'

'I just don't _understand_!' she cut in. 'He's a clever lad, why doesn't he want to get a degree? Imogen does, has he thought of that, what's he gonna do while she's off at uni and he's—he's peeling onions in the back of some poky café?'

Her partner shrugged. 'I know. It might be a mistake—but it's his mistake to make, isn't it?'

She groaned and downed the rest of her tea, grimacing at the dry taste it left in her mouth. 'OK, I get it, you don't have to rub it in. I have to let him go.'

'And you'll watch him this morning?' Tom prodded.

Christine was about to respond negatively—and explosively—when she caught his eye. '_Fine_. I'll watch. Happy now, Mr Family Counsellor?'

He rose and leaned across to kiss her. 'Always happy when you bow to my superior wisdom.' She scoffed and he grinned. 'I need to get moving, Simon'll be in a right tizz with the bake-off and the hol and all.'

'Do that often, does he?' Christine asked without rancour as she left her place. 'Get in a tizz.'

Tom paused at the door and turned back to her. 'You have no idea, love. I think—I think in his heart of hearts he's wishing he'd stayed away.'

She cleared the table and permitted herself a small smile.

* * *

**Grantly House, 7.30am**

* * *

Audrey winced as she poured more coffee into the coffeemaker. It was usually loud in the dining room at this hour, but today the volume was going through the roof as everyone anticipated a week off. For some kids, Grantly House had become home and they'd be staying put, but others were planning to return to Rochdale, the Brown twins intended spending the week with their grandfather, and Kevin Chalk was to go all the way to London to stay with his adopted dad Daniel. Despite her annoyance at the noise, Audrey began to smile. A break would be good.

As she moved behind the counter—Maggie had already gone over to school to prepare for the bake-off—she found herself listening in on one particular group.

'It was _awesome_,' Harley was saying eagerly. 'You saw the guy from Havelock, right? 'E's massive, well huge, an' all of us were sure there was no hope, 'specially after Kev cocked up his free kick. An' then Kacey just went up, tilted her head in that way she 'as, and—_bam_. That goalie never knew what hit him!'

'Yeah, what happened, mate?' Rhiannon demanded of Kevin. 'Not like our genius-kid to mess up. You could've cost us the game.'

'It was just a friendly,' Kevin growled as he played with his cereal. 'Don't know why yous are all fussin' over it.'

Harley clapped him on the back and Audrey saw Kevin flinch as the younger boy said, 'Friendly or not, it was our chance to give 'em what-for after they hammered us out of the cup that time, 'cos of their fussin' over Kacey bein' a girl—'

'Aw, come on, Harl,' Rhiannon teased. 'You don't fool us, football or no football you're glad she's a girl, we all know you fancy the pants off 'er—'

'That's bollocks, man,' Harley protested, his complexion darkening two shades.

'Oh, is it _Lula_ you're after?' Rhiannon pressed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. 'Actually, that makes more sense—'

'Will yous all just shut up?' Kevin's chair tumbled back, crashing against the table behind as he jerked to his feet. 'You're all yellin' so much I can't think straight!' He stormed off and silence fell as everyone turned to watch him go, their shock plain on their faces.

Rhiannon's gaze found Audrey's and she gave a shrug. ''E must be missin' Dynasty.'

'_He_ broke up with _her_,' Harley pointed out, pushing his own chair back and reaching to grab his roll. 'Mebbe he's sick.'

'Don't be daft, Kevin's never sick,' Rhiannon scoffed.

Audrey frowned. 'Why do you think he's ill, Harley?'

The Year 11 boy's shoulders twitched. 'I don't, miss, I was just sayin'. It's not like Kev to be grumpy, an' me gran always used to say a pain in yer temper usually meant a pain somewhere else.'

'Well, let's hope not,' Audrey advised. 'Illness is the last thing we need when we're about to break up for a week. Is everyone done? Then bring your dishes through and clean them yourselves. Rhiannon, would you supervise, please?'

Audrey hid a smile as the sixth former agreed. Rhiannon's appointment as house prefect had been one of Christine's better ideas, and it had done wonders for the girl's confidence. Even Kevin's election as Head Boy and move back to Grantly House had not altered Rhiannon's status, and it showed now as she marshalled the younger pupils towards the kitchen with brisk efficiency. For her part, Audrey was conscious of a sense of unease, and it drew her up the stairs to rap lightly on Kevin's door.

There was no answer.

She rapped again.

It opened abruptly.

'What?' Kevin barked. 'Can't you stay off me case for five minutes?'

'That's enough,' Audrey returned sharply, only to soften when she saw the Head Boy's shoulders slump. 'What's wrong? This isn't like you. Aren't you looking forward to seeing Chalky?'

Kevin looked sheepish. ''Course, can't wait,'—but Audrey thought his attempt at a smile was pained and her concern deepened.

'Are you not feeling well?'

His shoulders twitched. 'It's just an headache, miss. I'm good. You don't have to worry about me, I'll be fine.'

'Are you sure?' Audrey persisted. 'There's no lessons for you this morning with this bake-off, I'm sure Mr Lowsley wouldn't mind if you wanted to take a couple of Panadol and go back to bed for an hour or two.'

'I'm _fine_,' Kevin insisted. 'No way am I gonna miss the bake-off, Connor'd never forgive us!'

'You'll tell Maggie or I if—'

'_Miss_!' He was grinning and it made Audrey feel better. 'It's only a bit of a head, you know I get 'em now an' then. Connor says it's because of the size of me brain,' he ended complacently, and Audrey laughed aloud, now completely reassured.

'If you say so! I'll leave you to finish your packing and if I don't see you later, please give my regards to Daniel—and have a great holiday!'

Kevin's cheery 'You too!' followed her up the stairs and she began to hum contentedly as she rearranged the pile of books she planned to tackle over the coming week. The sun was shining, winter's grip seemed to be easing at last, a holiday was in the offing and life, Audrey told herself, was good.

* * *

**Head's Office, 7.55 am**

* * *

Simon paced his office, running a frantic hand through his hair. Half-term had arrived and his heart sank at the prospect of an entire nine days of the Spark-Bain clan—nine days where he'd have no chance of seeing Mika. They'd eaten together twice over the past week, the second time lingering long and late over their drinks, and when they parted she'd given him a kiss on the cheek. He wasn't a fool, he was an attractive man and he knew a gesture like that indicated that her interest went beyond friendship. And he was tempted… _God_, was he tempted. He'd laughed more in a night with Mika than he'd done in a week with Sue.

'Morning,' Tom called and he turned with a guilty jump as the other man entered, followed by Christine, and Simon stared. To the best of his knowledge it was the first time she'd been in her former office since the day of her demotion.

'Morning,' she said briefly, her eyes roving the room, and he winced, fighting back the desire to apologise for moving the desk and changing the filing cabinet. 'So. All set for the bake-off?'

Simon only just prevented himself from gawping at this unexpected civility. 'Uh, yeah. Think so, Maggie's here with already with Connor and few of the others, setting up.'

'Connor's here?' She twisted to look at the clock. 'It's not even eight yet, he must be keen.' Her gaze was impassive but her lips twitched, and Simon fought the urge to wriggle self-consciously—like a naughty boy who'd been caught in some mischief.

'Uh, yeah, I suppose so.' He switched his gaze to his deputy, taking refuge in a moment of normality. 'Tom, Maggie wants to see you. Something about the rotas?'

The older man nodded. 'Sure, I'll head over now. Christine?'

She looked at him. 'Oh, I'll… stay here. I, uh, I need to have a word with Simon.'

Tom's eyebrows skyrocketed and Simon gulped. Well, if she was finally gonna call him on stealing her job he'd just have to take it and grovel, find some way of placating her, he thought grimly. He'd heard all about her altercations with Sue—

'—sorry,' Christine said.

He blinked. 'I beg your pardon?'

She bit her lip. 'I wanted to say, I'm sorry. I, I understand now. About last term.' She couldn't meet his gaze and he was glad of it; he didn't think he could have met hers. _She_ was apologising to _him_?

'Think nothing of it,' he said quickly, then: 'Connor told you?' His heart pounded. What _else_ had Connor said?

'Shouted it, actually.' Christine's smile was wry.

'You don't need to apologise, I shouldn't have come in the first place,' Simon blurted. 'As soon as Michael told me your history I should've walked away, I should've realised it was too soon. Instead, I… Christine, I cringe when I remember the things I said and did to you. It was unforgivable.'

For the first time their eyes met; Simon's gaze remained furtive and unsure, but Christine's was steady.

'Believe it or not, I do understand,' she said softly. 'You're not the only one who needs to atone, I remind myself of my own sins ... every day. Every time I snap at Connor, every time I find myself yearning to lose myself in a bottle of vodka... I read once that regret is most unproductive of all emotions and I think it's true; it's easy to go in everlasting circles without ever moving forward.'

'Do you–do you think we can?' he ventured.

She studied him for a long moment, her lips pursed before relaxing. 'Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure we can. Anyway, we've got Tom. He'll keep us on the straight and narrow and believe me, he's good at it.'

Her rueful tone made him laugh and to his amazement she joined in. Their laughter mingled with the sound of Sonya answering the phone—only to fade with an exchange of concerned glances as the secretary's voice rose.

Christine was the first to move when the receiver clicked into its cradle. 'Sonya. Is there a problem?'

Simon drew back, inwardly marvelling at her crisp tone. When _he_ tried to do the same he got little more than dirty looks for his pains.

Sonya's expression was grim when she turned to face them, her eyes going straight to her former boss. 'That was Yvonne Hegarty from Havelock,' she began before adding in a rush, 'Two of their kids were hospitalised overnight.'

Simon's heart skipped a beat, but once again Christine was ahead of him.

'Why?'

The younger woman looked scared. 'They're not sure yet, but—but they're worried about that bad flu, the one that killed that primary kid in Kilmarnock the other week.'

'They had to close the school, didn't they,' Christine said.

'Yeah, they were closed for a fortnight,' Simon agreed, more for something to say than anything else.

'Dear God,' Christine whispered. 'Did Yvonne say how the kids are doing, Sonya?'

'One of 'em, not so good. The other, they 'ope they've got it in time.'

Simon watched as Christine sat in one of the chairs near the secretary's desk. She looked sick, he thought.

'An' that's not all, boss,' Sonya continued, her attention focused so completely on Christine that Simon knew she'd entirely forgotten about him or the new _status quo_. 'Both of 'em, they was on the team that played us last night. _That's_ why she was phonin', to warn us!'

* * *

_Sooo... what do you think?_

_Next time: With the staff on illness alert, Sue's confronted with an old nightmare, Christine takes control, and Dynasty's temper gets the better of her. _


	19. Episode 5-2

_Here's more! A little comic relief mixed with … well, not very funny and totally unexpected—for me, too. I didn't plan this, it just started writing itself… wonder whether it'll change people's opinions of the character in question._

_Reviews:_

_**Helena**: *g* I think you're about to be very happy then!_

_**Evelyn**: Yup, in RL a school with so many disasters probably wouldn't last two minutes, but hey, that's half the fun. And I tell myself it's part boarding school where life does tend to be a _leetle_ more dramatic than your average day school._

_**Jess**: More coming on that!_

_**Paisley**: Yeah, I thought it was time to tie the Christine vs Simon storyline off a little, given what's coming up. :)_

_**LittleBooLost**: Here you go! :D_

_Thank you for reviewing, keep them coming, and most of all: enjoy!_

* * *

**Miss Spark's room, 9.20am**

* * *

Sue stayed behind her bench as Year 10 streamed in for their life science lesson. It wasn't much protection from the flu germs they'd been told about at staff briefing, but it was better than mingling with the kids as they jumbled and shuffled and jostled each other on their way to their seats, their hands and breaths spreading germs with every movement … She shuddered.

She'd had a horror of illness since the shocking death of one of her dormitory mates back when she was in second form. One day Amy had been fine, then she'd been a bit headachey, then she'd been sick all over their bunk bed after school. The matron had hustled her along to sick bay with a sharp instruction for Sue and the other two to stay where they were. The following day they were told that Amy had become desperately ill overnight and the nurse had summoned an ambulance—but by then it had been too late. Amy died before she could get to hospital, drowning, so rumour ghoulishly said, in her own blood. Sue had never forgotten the horror of it or the surreal atmosphere of the days that followed. The eerie quiet. Giggles and gossips turned to introspective silence broken only by sobs. The overpowering, cloying scent of the lilies the Head had placed in hall during the memorial assembly. To this day, she loathed the smell of lilies.

'Miss? Miss, are you not gonna teach us this mornin'?' Shaznay Montrose's cocky tone roused Sue from her unpleasant memories, and she summoned a smile.

'Don't be silly, of course I'm going to be teaching you!' She lifted a pile of papers and tapped them twice against her bench, as if to straighten them. 'It's only half term, you know. You don't get a special day for _half-term_.'

She made no further movement and the class stared.

'_So_?' Lisa Brown prompted when the moment lingered. 'What're you doin' with those, miss, just sittin' gawpin' at'em?' The class laughed and Sue bit her lip. 'Honestly, you're useless,' the girl chided in an oddly adult tone as she rose and came to the bench. 'Here, give us 'em and I'll hand 'em out—'

Sue reacted instinctively, twitching the papers away from Lisa's grasp. _Unclean, unclean!_ her mind screamed and it took an almighty effort to steady her voice enough to say, 'Go and sit down, Lisa. I can hand them out myself.'

'Suit yerself, I was just tryin' to help,' the girl huffed, but at least she did Sue's bidding and returned to her place.

'Here miss, that weren't on,' Darren Hughes shouted from the back. 'You treated 'er 'sif she was dirt, di'n't she, you others?'

'Yeah!' the class agreed with one voice and Sue realised her entire body was trembling. It was happening again, the class was slipping inexorably out of her control and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

_Unless_…

'That's _enough_!' she yelled as the lesson threatened to degenerate into an all-out riot. 'Just—just settle down, or I'll—I'll call Mrs Mulgrew!' It hurt her pride to invoke Christine's name, but the speed with which the class settled justified it, leaving a sour taste in Sue's mouth. 'Just settle down,' she repeated numbly. 'Get out your books and turn the chapter we were looking at last time, about plant reproduction—'

'Great, more plant sex,' Shaznay grumbled from behind her as she started to move about the room, gingerly laying down sheet after sheet and making as little contact with desks (or the kids) as possible. 'When're we movin' on to humans, miss?'

Sue judged it wise to ignore this and continued circulating, praying that her legs wouldn't suddenly give way beneath her. _Why_ hadn't she taken one of her tablets that morning? They always helped but she'd thought—more fool her—that she could manage without for just this one day.

As she reached the last table Darren began to tap its laminated surface, his movements loud and staccato, hurting Sue's ears.

'Oooh, come on, miss, I can't wait,' he urged feverishly, his eyes going creepily wide.

Sue moved towards the other side of the hexagonal desk. Darren made her uncomfortable; she was never sure whether he was deliberately winding her up or if that was just the way he was. Once she'd suggested to Nikki Boston that he should be assessed for attention deficit disorder; Nikki had eyed her askance before announcing there was nothing wrong with Darren Hughes that couldn't be cured by a good kick up the posterior. She'd never dared mention it again.

'Thanks, miss,' Lenny murmured as she gave him his sheet and Sue nodded. She liked Lenny. Most people did.

'Shout if you need help,' she told him before turning reluctantly to Darren.

He was no longer tapping. Instead he was clutching his abdomen, his gaze turning introspective. 'Um, miss—'

Sue assumed he was trying it on.

'Sit up properly,' she ordered sharply. 'Here, here's your sheet, see how far you can—'

His shoulders heaved and she jumped back—but not before Darren was disgustingly and horridly sick all over her shiny patent leather shoes.

* * *

**Mrs Mulgrew's room, 9.40am**

* * *

'You've got another ten minutes,' Christine called to the Year 11 class she was torturing with an impromptu timed essay. 'Make it count, OK? You should have almost finished by now, this is when you need to look over what you've written—_Lisa Brown_, haven't you ever heard of knocking?'

'Please, miss, you've gotta come,' Lisa panted. 'Darren Hughes just vommed all over Miss Spark an' she's lost it, just totally gone _ape_ an'—an' we don't know what to _do_!'

Christine glanced at Mika Aspinall. 'Just calm down, OK? I'm coming. Mrs Aspinall, can you take over here?'

The younger woman gave a brief nod and Christine moved towards Lisa, who was almost vibrating with nervousness and need, and ushered her into the corridor. 'Right, Miss Brown. Has Darren been unwell this morning?'

'I don't think so,' Lisa gasped. 'He was messin' around just two minutes before… oh, miss, has he got that flu you were talkin' about? He's been breathin' all over Lenny, Lenny's got asthma. If he gets flu he could _die_!' She was nearly in tears and Christine stopped outside Sue's door.

'I'm sure it won't come to that. Let's just see how Darren is now, OK?' She stooped a little to catch Lisa's eyes with her own. 'OK?' The girl gave a jerky nod and Christine reached out to squeeze her shoulder; she knew how close the Brown twins were. 'Good. Now. I want you to find the nurse and bring her here, can you do that?'

Lisa nodded vigorously and Christine gave her shoulder another squeeze. 'Well done. Off you go!'

Once the girl had gone Christine opened the lab door. Near silence fell at once as the pupils abruptly returned to their seats. Darren was still on his feet, not looking much the worse for wear, while Sue ... It seemed Lisa had not exaggerated. 'Hysterical' was putting it mildly, she thought—but the kids had to come first.

She turned to Darren.

'Well?'

He looked guilty, but she'd learned not to pay undue attention to that. Darren always looked guilty. ''M Sorry.'

She suppressed a sigh. 'Are you ill, Darren?'

'Huh?'

'You've been sick, Lisa tells me. Do you have any other symptoms? Headache? Fever? Chills? Aches and pains? Sore throat?' She snapped the symptoms out one by one and Darren's eyes went wider and wider as he answered each in the negative.

This time Christine did not bother suppressing her sigh, blowing out a breath of exasperation. 'Is there _anything_ wrong with you other than an upset stomach, Mr Hughes?'

She was unwillingly amused when he actually stopped to think.

'Um, no?' He shuffled awkwardly. 'Er, what's all this about, miss? Why's you asking all them questions? I said I was sorry!' He sounded aggrieved.

Christine raised a hand to rub her forehead above her left eye. 'Darren. Did you pay any attention to what I said in registration this morning?'

'Uhhh—' He looked wildly about him, an answer in itself, and Christine gritted her teeth. Lenny Brown must have noticed it, for he gave Darren a sharp dig in the ribs.

'She's talkin' about that flu, ain't yer, miss?'

Christine nodded. Once again Darren's eyes threatened to pop.

'Yer mean you thought _I_ had that? Cos of—cos of—?'

Christine lost patience. 'Oddly enough, yes. Bringing up your breakfast all over your teacher's shoes _does_ rather create that impression!' She heard Shaznay snicker behind her and ignored it as the door opened. 'Ah, nurse, here you are at last. Darren here seems to be OK, but I've afraid Miss Spark—' She glanced over to where the young teacher was sitting crying, feverishly scrubbing at her shoes.

The nurse looked at Darren. 'Well, young man, you're coming with me, in just in case. You can help with her,' she added, nodding towards Sue.

Darren brightened. 'Epic, miss. Does that mean I get to slap her?'

Christine grabbed him by the arm and frogmarched him to the door. '_Stay—there_… And not another word, do you understand me?' She didn't stop for more, shooting a look at the rest of the class that turned them quiet as she returned to Sue's side.

'Sue?' She hunkered down before the younger woman. 'Sue, can you get up?'

'I can't get ill, I can't,' Sue gasped, not seeming to recognise Christine. 'I don't want to die, I'm scared of dying—'

'I'll bring her to the medical room and give Simon a ring,' the nurse murmured. 'Hopefully he can snap her out of this, this funk. Either way, she'll need to go home, she won't be fit for anything after this.'

Christine nodded. 'Sue, come on,' she urged gently. 'Get up. It's OK, I promise, no-one's dying.'

'You swear?' Sue's voice slid up the register, becoming high and childlike. It raised the hairs on the back of Christine's neck. ''Cos that's what you said before, and Amy died—'

'Oh my god, she's well lost it,' Shaznay declared loudly. 'They'll have to lock her up, she's off 'er rocker!'

Sue burst into frantic, terrified tears. 'She _died_! They t-took her away in the dark, she was scared of the dark, every night she made us turn the hall light back on after Lights Out—'

Christine realised what was happening, and the realisation displaced a half-term's worth of dislike and distrust. This was not Miss Sue Spark, (Hons), this was a traumatised child—and she responded accordingly, wrapping her arms around the younger woman and rocking her.

'Get this lot out of here,' she hissed at the nurse, not daring to raise her voice as Sue's sobs softened into whimpers. 'Send them to hall, they can play audience for the bake-off. And get Simon. _Now_.'

The nurse did not need to be told twice and Christine sat in the middle of the classroom as it gradually emptied, cradling her archenemy and wondering how the hell she managed to get into these situations.

* * *

**Hall, 10.10am**

* * *

'Bakers, you've got another half an hour, give or take a few,' Mrs Budgen announced and the thirty-odd Year 11 and 12 pupils taking part glanced up, looking complacent or alarmed according to the state of their starters.

'You're kiddin, miss,' Dynasty called from where she was frenetically chopping tomatoes and onions. 'Only 'alf an hour, I've just got me breads in, I'll never be done in time!'

Connor twisted from the bench in front to grin at her. 'Keep calm and carry on, Dyn.'

'Easy for you to say,' she grumbled. 'We can't all be ace in the kitchen, smarty-pants.'

'It's called time-management,' Louisa put in with the supercilious smile that always roused violent emotions within Dynasty. 'It's a useful skill, you should try it some time… especially as _yours_ doesn't seem to be much more than watery veg and toast.' She glanced at the big pot of soup that was simmering happily and Dynasty scowled.

Soup, why hadn't she thought of soup? It was simple, it fulfilled Mrs B's requirement for something that could easily be scaled to feed the whole school, it was economical to make… all of a sudden her own idea of little bruschettas seemed foolish and impractical, proving more time-consuming that she could have anticipated.

'Just ignore her,' Imogen advised from her other side, casting Louisa an annoyed look. 'She's just stirring, you're doin' fine.'

Dynasty gave her a sidelong smile and bent back over her bruschetta topping, a line indenting her forehead as she considered. She had onions, herbs, tomatoes, olives, and seasoning ….There was still the bacon bits to fry off and the tuna to do for the fish-eaters. At least the roasted pepper she'd planned for the vegetarians was already in the oven. It was a lot to do in … she peeked at the clock … just over twenty minutes and she blew out a breath, determined not to be distracted further.

Unfortunately for that, her concentration was broken by the invasion of what initially seemed to be half of Year 10.

''Ere, what's all this?' Mrs Budgen demanded indignantly. 'You lot can't just march in wherever you please, shouldn't you be somewhere?'

'Mrs Mulgrew told us to come,' Dynasty heard Shaznay Montrose say. 'We're to be yer audience, she says.'

'They're lyin', miss,' Rhiannon called from her own bench. 'They should be in science, they've probably done a runner on Miss Spark—'

'That wouldn't be hard,' Dynasty muttered _sotto voce_ as Mrs Budgen ordered the Year 10s to sit _quietly_ around hall's perimeter. 'Woman's about as much use in t'classroom as a wet dishcloth.'

'Like you'd know,' Louisa mocked.

'Actually, she's dead good,' Imogen put in. 'I've heard Chris—Mrs Mulgrew say so. Apparently Dynasty's born teacher.'

'How appropriate,' Louisa murmured, neatly coiffed blonde head bowing over her soup-pot. 'Good for you, Dynasty, keep your expectations low. After all, don't they say that those who can, do… and those who can't… teach?' Her smile was beatific.

A warning look from Imogen prevented Dynasty from flying at her, and she managed a sweet smile of her own. 'Well, that's a shame for your aunt, innit? 'Cos if those who _can't, teach_ what do them'uns who can't teach do, eh? They're rubbish an' all, just like Miss Spark, so _you_ can shut your mouth!'

Louisa's shoulders twitched. 'Is that the best you can come up with?' One hand began to stir the contents of her pot. 'Maybe… just maybe… Mrs Mulgrew's lying about your abilities, had you thought of that?

'Oi, that's my mother-in-law you're talkin' about!' Imogen protested.

Louisa raised an eyebrow. 'She never lies, does she?'

Dynasty exchanged a glance with Imogen and grimaced, knowing without words what the other girl was thinking. She tossed her head and turned her back on Louisa. 'Just ignore 'er, Im.'

'Is that how you'll deal with challenging kids, Miss Barry?' came Louisa's voice in her ear. 'Just… ignore them. They'll learn so much that way.' Dynasty looked at her in time to catch her smirk and her grip on the bottle of lemon juice she was opening tightened. 'So… darling Christine has a record as a liar, does she? Oh, don't try to deny it now, your faces said it all and I've … heard things.'

Three separate scenes played on fast-forward in Dynasty's brain. Christine cradling her and telling her she could survive rape… Christine holding her as she writhed from pain after taking her abortion pills… Christine at Barry's funeral, a still constant point in a world that had forever changed… and fury and loyalty and grief and simple pissed-off-ness combined in a moment of madness, prompting her to throw the contents of the nearly-full bottle of lemon juice straight into Louisa's eyes.

As Louisa shrieked and doubled up Dynasty met Imogen's shocked gaze, aware of a tiny glimmer of triumph. That had been a _long_ time in coming.

* * *

**So?**

**Next time: Christine finds herself trying to keep the peace as Dynasty's in trouble once again—only to be plunged into something altogether more serious. **


	20. Episode 5-3

_Update time again! Not happy with this, it's one of those blood-from-stone times so I think it's creaky and awkward, but… yeah. Anyway, on with the show!_

_**Lori**: Your wish is my command this time! :) Thanks for your other review too, it was lovely. As for Christine, wait and see, I'm not telling… yet._

_**Molly**: LOL. Poor Sue._

_**Guest**: Re: Jasmine… she's not a major character this time round but she's got a small part coming up soon!_

_**Vanessa**: All depends how you define 'ill' doesn't it?_

_**LittleBooLost**: *g* Distraught Sue is great fun to write. Almost as much as bitchy Christine._

_**Jessiekat89**: Read on!_

_**Sue Spark**: Don't worry, you're not going to—or not at my hands, anyway._

_**Paisley**: Aw…. how mean! LOL. Yeah. I dislike her enough that it's difficult trying to write her sympathetically._

_**Guest**: Kacey's storyline pops up next chapter and becomes more important after that._

* * *

**Crush Hall, 10.45am**

* * *

'You have to talk to her, Kev,' Imogen was insisting as they streamed out of hall for their break. 'She's well out of control, someone needs to rein her in before she gets expelled!'

Kevin's forehead creased as he extracted a bottle of water from his bag. 'She won't get expelled for _that_.'

For a minute Connor thought his wife was going to strangle their friend.

'Are you _kiddin_'? Which part did you miss? Dynasty threw _nearly a whole bottle_ of lemon juice into Louisa's eyes—and she did it deliberately! How can she _not_ get in trouble?'

'Did she deserve it?' Connor asked.

Imogen glanced at him, her mouth opening and closing as she considered. 'Sort of.'

'What did she say?' he persisted, more to keep Imogen off Kevin's back than anything else. Imogen seemed to have forgotten that Dynasty and Kevin were no longer together.

'She was… saying things. About Dynasty's abilities. And then she started in on your mum and that's why Dyn went nuts.'

'But what did she _say_?'

Imogen was playing with her bag strap. 'She suggested your mum was lying about Dyn making a good teacher and said something like "She never lies" in a dead sarky tone and Dyn and I just _looked_ at each other… and it kicked off just after.' She raised her eyes to Connor's. 'Guess that kind of makes it my fault too, doesn't it.'

He pulled her close. 'Don't be daft, it's mostly Louisa's fault for being a cow and Dynasty's for losing her temper. My mum's got nothing to do with it no matter what anyone said, it'll be up to Tom and Mrs Budgen and Mr Lowsley—'

'Who's shacked up with Louisa's aunt,' Imogen reminded him.

'You're fussing about nothing, honest,' Kevin insisted, choosing that moment to close his locker and turn to face them. 'Staff'll ask, won't they? Dynasty's never shy about defendin' herself and it's not like she hurt Louisa—or not much.'

'But lemon juice!' Imogen protested. 'That's acid!'

'_Citric_ acid,' Kevin corrected, pulling at the edges of his blazer. 'It'll sting like hell but she can wash it out. She'll be good, promise. Hey, is it cold in here? I'm bloody freezin'.'

'We're near the door, there's always a slight draught,' Connor told him. 'Let's go to the library, it'll be warm.'

They were nearly there when his mother caught them. 'Here, what's this about Dynasty? Maggie says she threw lemon juice at Louisa Fox?'

Connor looked at his wife, who shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other before saying, 'Yeah, they were… arguing.'

His mum glared. 'Arguing, eh. Well, they've both been disqualified from the bake-off _and_ Dynasty's got to do a letter of apology as well as an essay on eye health.'

'So she's not been suspended?' Imogen asked, sounded disbelieving. 'Thought she was out for sure, especially once Miss Spark knows—'

'Miss Spark doesn't know and won't know,' Connor's mother interrupted. 'She's had to go home, that's why I sent Year 10 into you.'

'What about Louisa?' Connor asked.

His mum sent him a considering glance. 'Maggie says she's… much more comfortable. They've managed to rinse the lemon juice out, but her eyes may be a little sore and watery for a while.'

'See, isn't that what I said?' Kevin put in. 'Thanks, Mrs M, I tried telling them, but…' he shrugged, heaving an exaggerated sigh. 'They've no faith in me genius.'

Connor's mum looked amused. 'Maybe this'll teach them, h'mm? Now go and have your break, I'll see you in hall at the start of next lesson.'

'You mean you're comin' to watch?' The words came out of Connor in a startled torrent, and his mum licked her lips—like she did when she was nervous—before meeting his eyes frankly.

'Yeah. Yeah I am, it's got to be better than catching up with my marking, hasn't it. Besides, if Tom's right and you're gonna be the next Jamie Oliver, well… I want to see what you can do.'

'He's gonna be better than Jamie Oliver,' Imogen declared. 'He's aiming to beat Tom Kitchin and be the youngest chef _ever_ to get a Michelin star—'

'Steady on, let us win this first,' Connor muttered.

'Good luck, son.' His mum paused before giving him quick hug that left him breathless with surprise. She was rarely demonstrative in public. 'And win or not, I'm proud of you.'

She gave a little wave and vanished down the corridor while Connor realised that it was now less than five minutes before the bell was due to go.

'Come on, better head back to hall.' His brain was ticking over, assessing what he had to do in order to progress to the holy grail of the dessert round. Pastry, he'd decided, was where his heart lay.

Behind him, he could hear Imogen and Kevin talking, the words washing over him in barely-understood shapes.

'Will you speak to Dynasty?'

Silence. Then, 'We've split up, remember?'

Kevin's tone jerked Connor to attention just as Imogen said huffily, 'You're still supposed to be mates. I wouldn't have bothered asking if I knew you were gonna throw a hissy fit!'

'It's not a hissy fit, it's just….'

Connor turned in time to see Imogen reach out a supporting hand as their friend seemed to waver. 'Kevin, what's wrong? Are you ill?'

Kevin was rubbing the back of his neck. He scowled. 'I'm fine, just leave us alone!'

He threw her off, pushing past them. Imogen came to link her arm with Connor's.

'What d'you think? Should we tell?'

Connor bit his lip, considering. 'Nah, he's not a little kid, is he? If he says he's fine, he's fine, right?'

She grinned up at him. 'Right. Come on then, Masterchef, let's get this one in the bag!'

* * *

**Hall, 11.05am**

* * *

The second round of the bake-off had just started when Christine entered the hall, Louisa and Dynasty in tow. She crossed to a small group of three chairs were organised in a semi-circle, and pointed.

'Louisa_.' _The sixth former—her eyes painfully bloodshot—looked as though she was going to argue, and Christine glared_. _

'_Sit_,' she ordered before turning to Dynasty, her expression growing grimmer by the second. 'And _you_, Miss Barry. You can sit here.' She indicated a second seat before taking the remaining chair between them, and Dynasty looked indignant.

'You don't have to sit there, miss, we're not little kids!'

'You should've thought of that before you went slinging lemon juice into people's eyes,' Christine hissed, her voice dropping. 'For god's sake, Dynasty! What possessed you?'

The Head Girl's lashes dropped. 'She… she said things.'

'"Said things"? Oh, for…. Listen up, young lady. You're damned lucky I'm not Head any longer or you'd have lost that shiny badge of yours, do you understand me? This is _not_ acceptable behaviour and I guarantee you, if you pull another stunt like this you _will_ lose it, even if I have to march you to Mr Lowsley myself! Do I make myself clear?'

Dynasty made a noise and the older woman's glare intensified.

'Do I make myself _clear_?'

Dynasty flashed her a look that positively oozed resentment, but Christine simply raised her eyebrows and the girl took the hint, answering with a very proper, 'Yes, Mrs Mulgrew.'

'_Thank_ you.' She turned from Dynasty to Louisa. 'And you, Miss Fox. From what I've heard you're by no means blameless. How old are you?'

This time it was Louisa's turn to flash a sullen look, and Dynasty jumped in when no answer was forthcoming.

'She's nearly eighteen, miss. She's older'n me, anyway.'

Christine ignored her.

'Louisa?' Still nothing. 'Fine. I'll have to assume that Dynasty's right, won't I? Well, deliberately winding people up is _also_ unacceptable behaviour in adults—' She paused at Dynasty's smirk. 'Anything you'd like to add, Miss Barry?' It wasn't a question and Dynasty had the sense to keep quiet, allowing Christine to focus on the new girl. 'Just… play nicely, OK?'

Louisa remained silent, her head averted, her hands neatly clasped and ankles carefully crossed.

Christine repressed a sigh. There was no way she could get through to Louisa, she was certain of that, but she had to stop her and Dynasty from attacking each other at every possible opportunity. She'd no desire to see either in serious trouble, and serious trouble would be inevitable if matters continued as they were.

'Dynasty?' she prompted softly, turning once more to face her protégée. 'Do you understand why I'm angry?'

The familiar blue eyes met hers momentarily. 'It was only lemon juice, miss. I knew it wouldn't proper 'urt her, I'm no thicko.'

'Then you should also have known not to throw it in the first place!'

The girl blew out a gusty sigh. 'I know, miss! I know, but… she just gets under me skin and—and I can't think straight! I just, I just want to… ' Her voice trailed off.

'H'mm. And what if you'd been in the science lab, tell me that? What if you'd been working with an acid that _could_ have hurt her? You could have blinded her or left her with acid-burn scars—'

'What's wrong with Kevin?' Louisa blurted, and Christine glanced across, startled by the interruption.

'Pardon?'

'I've been watching,' Louisa went on. 'There's something up, he's being … weird.'

Christine peered across the room to where Kevin was working. His bench was filled with various pots and pans—typical Kevin, she thought with affectionate amusement, he never accepted any limitations—and did not see anything out of the ordinary.

'What d'you mean?' Dynasty demanded. For once there was no hostile edge. ''E looks fine to me.'

Louisa's expression was troubled. 'That's because you were arguing with Mrs Mulgrew. I'm telling you, he's not right. He nearly fell a moment ago, I saw him trying to steady himself.'

'Do you think he's ill?' Christine snapped, her heart sinking.

''E can't be, Kevin's never ill,' Dynasty put in swiftly—too swiftly, Christine thought. 'Many lives as a cat, him.'

The older woman rose. 'Even so, I'll have a word with Mrs Budgen.' She left the girls with a warning look and crossed to where Maggie was standing, watching Connor whizz something into a lurid green gloop.

Her son greeted her with a pleased smile. 'Hey, Mum. Come to see?'

Christine dutifully peered into various bowls and made noises she hoped were encouraging before grabbing Maggie's elbow and drawing her to one side. 'Does Kevin Chalk seem OK to you?'

Maggie looked across to where Kevin was frantically moving things on and off the hob. 'He's got ants in 'is pants, him. Look at him go! If I didn't know better I'd think he was trying to give your Connor a run for 'is money.' A pause. 'You should be dead proud of him, Christine, he's got a real flair for this.'

'Does he.' Christine wasn't really listening. She was watching Kevin, and now she was focused on him she understood Louisa's concern. The Head Boy's movements were frenzied, verging on uncontrolled.

'Mum, do you want to taste?'

Seeing no help for it—she _had_ promised to be supportive—Christine turned and dipped a finger into a spoonful of the green gloop Connor was proffering before raising it to her lips. It was better than she'd expected and she was about to say so when Louisa shouted, 'Kevin, your pan's smoking!'

Before Christine could move, Dynasty shot across the room. She was too late; Christine had a brief glimpse of Kevin's face as he fell and Dynasty's 'Oh my god miss, he's burnin' up!' confirmed her fears.

'And so's 'is pan!' Maggie wailed, diving for the hob controls while Christine went to kneel by Kevin, now surrounded by this three closest friends, Louisa, and Kacey Barry. She did not need to touch him to verify Dynasty's claim, heat spilled off the boy, radiating from him like a furnace, and Christine turned with an emphatic gesture.

'Get back, all of you! _Yes_, Dynasty, that means you too!'

They obeyed at once and Christine pushed herself slowly to her feet, her mind racing. If Kevin had the 'flu he had to be kept apart from the others, and she'd a suspicion the same was true for the four who'd been hanging over him—never to mention herself, Maggie and the occupants of Grantly House. Her heart sank at the logistics, the timing could not have been worse.

And then things were complicated further by the insistent shrieking of the fire alarm. Christine's eyes met Maggie's; the older woman was mouthing '_Now_ what do we do?'

Christine couldn't have put it better herself. What a quandary.

Evacuate—or quarantine?

* * *

**Hall, 11.45am**

* * *

'Christine, what do we do?' Dynasty implored as she tried to free herself from Mrs Budgen's grasp. 'We can't just leave 'im—'

'And we can't go out there either,' Christine said grimly as she extracted her phone and stabbed at it. 'Hold on… Year 10, get back! For Pete's sake, how many times?' She spun away, mobile to her ear, and Dynasty watched her go with her heart in her mouth.

'Calm down, flower, he'll be fine,' Mrs Budgen was saying—shouting, rather, so as to be heard over the alarm. 'He's a healthy lad, our Kevin. It's just a go of flu when's all's said and done.'

'People have _died_ from it!' Dynasty spat, freeing herself. 'Like that kid in Kilmarnock, I saw it in the news. They said it were like that Spanish 'flu Miss McFall's always goin' on about, it gets the young an' healthy!'

Tears came to her eyes. Kevin looked so small on the floor, covered by a combination of Christine's long cardigan and Louisa's blazer, and for the first time Dynasty found herself wishing she'd stuck to the regulation school uniform; her tightly fitted quilted jacket was too short to be much use. It should be _her_ things covering Kevin now, she thought resentfully, not that Louisa's—

'Right,' Christine announced as she returned, 'I've just spoken to Mr Clarkson and told him what's going on. We still need to evacuate, he says, but we'll use the back entrance here and we are _not_ to attempt to join everyone else.'

'But what about Kevin?' Dynasty asked again.

Christine shot her a look. 'I was coming to that. Mrs Budgen, if you could take the others—'

'What about my kids?' Mrs Budgen blurted, all at once looking as scared as Dynasty felt. 'They've been over Kevin all day!'

Dynasty watched as Christine took a deep breath, her eyes closing momentarily. '_Yes_. Look, there's no easy way to do this, OK? Just… get them out, keep them separate from the rest of the school, keep them calm. I'll stay with Kevin until the ambulance comes.'

'I'm stayin' too,' Dynasty insisted as Mrs Budgen began to usher the others out, her chin lifting as she silently dared Christine to argue.

'Same here,' Connor added, giving Dynasty a half-hug while Imogen affirmed his statement with a simple nod. 'We're his best mates, Mum. If he's got it…' He shrugged as his voice tailed off, and Dynasty did not miss how Christine grew a little paler at the unspoken implication.

'Mrs Mulgrew—' Louisa began, and if Dynasty hadn't been so worried she'd have smirked at Christine's fierceness as she turned.

'What part of evacuation do you not understand?' she demanded harshly. 'Get out. _Now_.'

'But—' Louisa protested.

Christine pushed herself into Louisa's space, her jaw rigid and her eyes hard. 'Miss Fox. You do _not_ want to push me. _Move_!'

Dynasty took advantage of the older woman's distraction to fling herself beside Kevin once again, squeezing his hand, stroking his face, longing for cool water to cool him and longing even more for him to open his eyes and smile that cheeky smile… Her breath caught as she considered what it would mean to never see that smile again. Her vision clouded.

'Hey.' A touch on the shoulder made her look up; it was Christine. 'Come on, love. Get away from him.'

Dynasty gave a fierce shake of the head. 'I'm not movin', there's nothin' wrong with me, I'm stayin' here—'

'Come on, work with me here,' Christine told her softly. 'I allowed you to stay when by rights I should've told you—all of you—to go. There's nothing anyone can do for him until the ambulance comes.'

It was the one of the hardest things Dynasty had ever had to do, but she backed off, one hand swiping fruitlessly at the tears streaming down her face. 'H—how long will they be?'

Christine's attempt at a reassuring smile did not reach her eyes. 'Not long, I'm sure.' She reached out as if to brush Kevin's forehead when Connor lurched forward, grabbing her arm and pulling her back.

'Hey! If it's that 'flu you were tellin' us about you shouldn't be hanging over him either!'

Dynasty wondered at his tone but it seemed to mean something to Christine, who was quiet for a long moment before she slowly nodded and allowed her son to pull her to her feet. Meanwhile, the girls had drifted closer so that the four of them were standing in a small huddle, the attention of them all fixed on Kevin prone on the floor. It hurt Dynasty to see him like that; there was a crease between his brows and he was muttering nonsense at high speed, his head twitching from one side to the other.

'He's not fitting, is he?' Imogen asked softly.

'I hope not.' All the authority seemed to have drained from Christine's voice; it was almost a monotone. 'Are _you_ OK, you three? No aches or pains or anything because if so, you've got to tell me now—' She broke off, her lips trembling, and Dynasty pressed closer, as much to give comfort as to receive it.

'We're fine, it's just Kev…' She made an effort and somehow kept her tone light. 'Typical Kev, innit, he can't just get sick like anyone else, like, he's gotta make a whole drama over it!'

It wasn't really funny but the others tittered, the awkward laughs dying into silence that was oddly comfortable by contrast. They drifted closer until they were standing in a loose group hug, and stayed that way until the double doors burst open and a stream of firemen and paramedics flowed in, their uniforms of black, fluorescent green and yellow causing Dynasty to gasp from a moment of deja-vu, a moment where she was abruptly returned to the day Barry died.

The moment passed when one of the firemen barrelled up to them demanding, 'Where's the fire?' as the paramedics converged about Kevin.

'If there isn't one elsewhere it was a false alarm,' Christine said. 'Kevin… Kevin's food started burning just before he collapsed. I'm, I'm assuming that's what triggered it.'

'Huh.' The fireman gave her a cold look. 'Even so, it was irresponsible not to evacuate, Miss—?'

'Mrs Mulgrew,' Christine supplied.

The fireman shook his head. 'Weren't you Head here before? Oh, well, if this is how you behave in an emergency…!' Only Christine's hand on her arm prevented Dynasty from letting rip, but Imogen was under no such restraints.

'She knows _exactly_ what to do in an emergency, thanks. We're not kids, Kevin's our mate and he's lying there burnin' up, we knew there was no fire!' She pointed at the slowly fading scar that still marred the white skin of her neck. 'See this? D'you seriously think we'd still be here, any of us, if there actually _was_ a fire?!'

The fireman backed down. 'Yeah, well. We don't like heroes in my line of work, it just means more bodybags in the end.' He pushed back his helmet. 'Right, that's the last, there's no fire here. Try not to burn anything else. I'm off.'

'Good riddance!' Dynasty snapped after his retreating back as the paramedics began to lift Kevin, glad to take a moment's refuge from fear. It came flooding back when the paramedics turned and she saw they were wearing masks. 'Here, what're you wearin' them for?'

One of the paramedics stepped forward after urging the others on, a hand reaching up to pull the mask down from his face. 'It's just a precaution, miss.'

'But—' Dynasty tried as Christine asked, 'When we will hear?'

The paramedic's gaze was sober. 'Someone'll be in touch. Kid's a boarder, isn't he?' Christine nodded and Dynasty quivered with impatience at these nonessentials. 'We'll let you know ASAP.'

'Will he be OK?' Dynasty blurted. She couldn't bear to ask _will he survive_.

The paramedic's eyes were kind. 'I can't say, miss.' He hesitated before adding, 'he must've been feeling shocking. He's got a fever of 104º, nearly 105º. I don't know how it was missed, that's _dangerously_ high.'

A strangled sound came from Connor. 'But he'll make it, yeah?'

The paramedic sighed and Dynasty's heart sank all the way to the floor. 'God knows, the next twenty-four hours will be crucial. We'll let your teacher know, OK?' He left them with a half-salute and Dynasty looked at the others, her mouth almost too dry for speech.

Eventually she rasped, 'Twenty four hours? How the bloody hell are we supposed to wait _twenty four hours_?!'

* * *

_'Flu epidemics in any school are nasty; in a boarding school they're something else. We had a bad one when I was in Lower Sixth/Year 12. Most of the school was ill, to the point they talked about sending everyone home for a week. And then you'd members of staff getting ill multiple times as the strain mutated. One girl in my year ran a fever of 105 and passed out in her bathroom (we had en-suite bathrooms; going home was slumming it, not at school!) and caused a lovely panic. Fun was had by all, in fact. It was an interesting fortnight or so! And... we had a fire alarm. Being good little sixth formers and prefects we managed to totter halfway round to the dining hall where registration was taken only to be met by a teacher who told us (heartlessly, we thought) that we were to go back to bed and ignore the alarm. Our bugs were more dangerous than a potential fire, apparently(!)_

_Next time: News from Havelock twists the screw on Waterloo Road, the bake-off comes to an abrupt end, and Kevin's condition takes an unexpected turn. _

_Don't forget to drop a line! :) _


	21. Episode 5-4

_Apologies for the delay! I'm hoping to get the next bit up over the next few days which should put us more or less back on track. Anyone else checking to see when WR starts? They're very late in giving us a date this year. I've seen some mention of Sept 10, but that's a Wednesday and the 8pm slot clashes with GBBO so… who knows!_

_Reviews…_

_**Molly**__: More Suffering Sue next time, but for the moment she's been packed off! _

_**Fee**__: Thanks! I hummed and hahhed about reusing the show plot line, but there's always elements I like to put a twist on and that's one!_

_**Lori**__: That chapter or the story? Yeah, in a longer piece where setup's necessary there's always a danger it can get boring… glad you thought it redeemed itself as it went on. _

_**keepingitsweet**__: Here you go! Enjoy!_

_**Sophie**__: Don't panic, Christine's story lines—all of them—are about to kick off. I know she's had a bit of a back seat so far but she's still very central to this story as a whole. _

_**LittleBooLost**__: *g* Louisa's fun to write. Some changes coming up there soon, though…_

_**Paisley**__: Read on! :)_

_Christine-fans should be happy to know that from here on in she'll have a larger role to play than heretofore. Oh, and this bit is … different. Largely Christine-centric, but different. _

* * *

**Head's Office, 12.10pm**

* * *

Tom twitched the blinds in Simon's office for the fifth time in as many minutes as he watched the paramedics lift Kevin into the ambulance. Audrey was talking in the background, something about having suspected that Kevin was ill that morning, but he tuned her out. He was too busy worrying about Kevin, about Connor, Dynasty and Imogen … and Christine most of all. What if he do if they got ill as well? His mouth went bone-dry at the thought.

_Thank God she's not pregnant_, he told himself as he straightened the blind once more as the ambulance pulled out. '_Flu can be dangerous for pregnant women…_

'Tom!' Audrey said, and he jerked towards her. Her gaze was knowing. 'They'll be fine. Kevin too.'

'You don't know that,' he croaked. 'That kid from Havelock's desperately ill. If he dies—'

'Even if he does, it doesn't mean Kevin will,' Audrey said gently. 'For all you know there's underlying conditions. Kevin's as hardy as a mountain pony. He'll come through.'

'You better pray he does,' Tom snapped, fear momentarily running away with him. ''Cos if he doesn't and you suspected—' He made himself stop as she aged ten years before his very eyes. 'God, Audrey, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that.'

'It's all right.' She came to lay a kind hand on his arm. 'Come on, let's ask Sonya for a cuppa while we wait for news. Does Simon know? When's he coming back?'

'I sent him a text, didn't want to disturb him if Sue was still out of it,' Tom said, twitching away from her and starting to pace. If he was on the move he could control the maelstrom of emotion more readily. He wheeled to face her. 'Should give Daniel a call, shouldn't I? He needs to know. And the other kids' parents, the ones going back to Rochdale… _Shit_.' He ran a trembling hand through his hair. 'We shouldn't let them go, should we?'

'That's Simon's decision to make,' Audrey reminded him. 'Not yours. You phone Daniel, that's all anyone can expect of you until—oh, here he is now.'

'Did you get my text about Kevin?' Tom barked at the Head as the younger man came through, grey-faced. 'Why didn't you answer?'

'Because I was talking to Yvonne Hegarty.' Simon stopped and Tom found his pulse was thumping hard in his ears as he waited for him to continue. 'That first kid, he died an hour ago. They're—they're not even sure if the other one's gonna pull through.' Simon paused, swallowing hard. 'Havelock wasn't supposed to be breaking up until next week, but they're closing now. She said we should do the same, this flu isn't to be messed with.'

'We're breaking up anyway,' Tom said numbly as he collapsed onto the leather sofa. 'Or are we? We're part boarding, Simon, what the _hell_ do we do with the kids at Grantly House?'

Simon was stalking the room in much the same way Tom had done earlier, a deep line creasing his brows and making him look older than his thirty years. 'We give the kids two weeks instead of one,' he decided. 'That means we can keep the Grantly House kids a few days first, check no-one's ill before sending them off. We'll take an extra week next term to catch up. Sonya!'

The secretary appeared so quickly that Tom suspected she'd been up to her old eavesdropping tricks, but for once he was glad of it. He jumped in with a brief explanation, trusting Sonya's curiosity to stop him if he omitted anything of importance. As expected, she was on the ball and she jotted a few notes for the letters she'd have to draft for the parents before glancing up at him, her gaze shrewd.

'Who's gonna tell Christine?'

'I will,' Tom said. 'Audrey, d'you wanna go and find Maggie and get her up to speed? Then you'll have the task of telling the kids, I don't envy you that.'

Sonya sighed. 'I'll give you a hand with that an' all. Get started on the blower too, eh?'

They left together and Tom prepared to do likewise when Simon stopped him.

'I'm coming with you. I want to hear what happened for myself.'

Tom nodded but didn't wait. He wouldn't have cared just then if the entire school wanted to accompany him, quarantine be damned, his first priority was getting to Christine and their kids. It took supreme effort to walk calmly down the corridor instead of sprinting as he longed to do; it was lunch hour and the kids were already buzzing from the news of Kevin's collapse. If they saw their Deputy Head racing around the place the buzz would turn into outright panic…

He did run the last few steps, bursting through the double doors of hall. As soon as he entered Christine and the kids surged towards him and they met halfway, the five of them clinging together until Simon cleared his throat behind them.

The kids drew back but Tom kept his arm firmly around Christine, unwilling to let her go just yet.

'Er… are you all OK?' Simon asked awkwardly.

The kids glared their opinion of this and it was left to Christine to say quietly, 'We're fine. These three are all OK so far—'

'What about you?' Simon interjected and Tom saw her eyes momentarily widen.

'I'm… I'm fine. Or I will be, when we know how Kevin is.' She attempted a smile. 'We've got to wait twenty-four hours apparently, but hopefully we'll hear something before them.' A pause. 'I gave them my number.'

Tom tensed, unsure of how Simon would take this usurpation of his authority, but the other man nodded.

'Good idea, Kevin's closer to you anyway and this lot…' He tailed off, looking as if he didn't know what to do with himself. 'Well. Since you seem to have everything in hand I think we should send everyone back to their form rooms once the bell goes—'

'What about the bake-off?' Dynasty interrupted. 'We never finished.'

'It's OK, Dyn, it'll be ruined anyway,' Connor told her.

Her chin lifted. 'Bollocks. Still dessert round to go, innit? I'm not havin' you lose this chance, Kevin wouldn't want it either.'

'Are you sure?' Christine asked.

Dynasty crossed her arms. 'Dead sure. Kev'd be livid if he thought we gave up just 'cos of him. He was proper keen, 'specially for Connor.'

'Fine,' Simon agreed. 'If that's how you feel about it… Can you prefects get the hall set up again and we'll let Maggie know? Assembly first, but we'll hold it in the gym for once.'

He left after that and pride coursed through Tom as Dynasty took charge, setting Connor to work in hall and sending Imogen to round up the troops.

'Never gives up, does she?' he murmured into Christine's ear, but he wasn't really thinking of Dynasty.

'H'mmm.' Christine looked up at him. 'What is it, love? There's something you haven't said—' She broke off, colour touching her cheeks. 'Unless it's school business and you can't tell, that is.'

'That's rubbish, that is,' Tom declared, pulling her closer. 'School business is the last thing I'd keep from you… God, Chris.' He buried his nose in her hair and went on in a voice that had turned suddenly hoarse. 'Simon said… he said that the first Havelock kid's died.' She stiffened. 'Kev could be in real danger, I didn't want to tell the kids … and all I could think was, thank God you're not pregnant. It'd be so dangerous if you were, I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you—'

''Shhh, I'm fine,' Christine murmured, her arms winding around him. 'I'm right here and we're fine. We're all _fine_.'

* * *

**Hall, 2.45pm**

* * *

'D'you want one, sir?' Dynasty asked Simon, indicating a plate of flapjacks. They were golden brown and gave off an appetising scent of honey and cinnamon and other more-ish things, and the Head nodded. If she was prepared to throw herself into this given Kevin's illness, the least he could do was meet her halfway.

'Love one… Mmmm, this is _good_!'

The Head Girl sniffed. 'See, not just a bimbo, me, no matter what anyone says. I'm no Connor but what I do, I do good.'

'_Very_ good,' Simon agreed, licking the sticky sweetness from his fingers. 'Cheap to make, too. Give that recipe to Mrs Budgen, I like yours better than hers—but don't tell her I said so!'

Dynasty smiled. It was a smile that wavered at the edges, but it was still a smile. 'Aw, thanks, sir. D'you mean it? You're not just sayin' so?'

He swiped another flapjack and bit into it. 'Not a chance. These are excellent.' He sent her a wink. 'Good luck.'

Mika joined him as he moved away, a smirk hovering. 'You've, uh…' She indicated the corner of her mouth. 'Crumbs.'

'What?' He swiped furtively at his mouth with his jacket sleeve, hoping no-one'd notice his un-headteacherly behaviour. 'All gone?'

She dimpled and nodded. 'How's Sue?'

Simon's sugar-induced good mood evaporated. 'She's… in a state. Finally got her to take her meds and go to bed. Hopefully she'll be more herself tonight.'

'Yeah…' He was aware of her assessing glance. 'Will she come back after the break?'

'Probably. Her dad's head of the education department, remember.' He couldn't quite eliminate a bitter edge. 'She can do no wrong in his eyes. Besides, for once it wasn't her fault.'

'What do you mean?'

Simon looked down into the curious blue eyes facing his and all at once the desire to talk of Sue left him. 'Never mind.' He drifted towards the closest table, staffed by Lula Tsibi and Kacey Barry, and eyed their wares.

They could not have been more different. Lula's plates consisted of glacéed fruit, a variety of baklava, and a dessert that reminded him unpleasantly of the semolina he'd been forced to eat during his own school days. And Kacey… He peered into a bowl of something cold.

She tilted her head. 'D'you want to try?'

'What is it?' Mika asked.

'Banana ice-cream,' Kacey told them, her thin face lighting up. 'You've gotta have some, it's amazin'. Just bananas, nothin' added to make it unhealthy or fattenin', like, just… pure fruit.' Her tone was almost reverent.

Simon took a cautious spoonful and found it unexpectedly pleasant. 'Just bananas, you say? No cream, no sugar?'

She gave an eager nod. 'Ace, innit. Better than all that bad stuff,' she added with a dismissive wave.

'Not everyone likes bananas,' Mika pointed out as she sampled a spoonful. 'Haven't you got anything else for us? Custard? Tray bakes? _Anything_ apart from banana … gloop?'

Simon thought he could almost see the walls go up around Kacey as she answered each question in the negative, and he hastened to reassure her. 'Never mind, it's still original _and_ cheap. Good work!' He took Mika's elbow and guided her away from the stalls, towards the centre of the hall. 'What was that about?'

The student teacher was frowning. 'Last week, that episode with Sue?'

'What about it?'

Mika turned to face him. 'I didn't say anything at the time, but I think she—Kacey—made herself pass out deliberately. Sue was unlucky, I think Kacey just wanted to avoid a shopping trip with her sister.'

Simon threw a bewildered glance at the Year 11 girl who was seemingly chatting happily with Lula. 'Why would she want that?'

Mika heaved a sigh that was almost exasperated. '_Look_ at her, Simon! She's just skin and bones. Did you hear what she said about that banana stuff? Nothing added, nothing "bad". And she dresses like crap, all oversized jeans and sloppy tops. No wonder Dynasty wanted to take her shopping.'

Now it was Simon's turn to frown. 'Sorry, not getting you.'

Mika looked uncertain. 'I might be wrong, but… I think there's some body image, self-esteem issues there. We had a special lecturer in college, see, to talk about eating disorders in schools. I'm not saying that's what going on here, but—'

'We'll do something about it,' Simon interrupted. 'I promise. It'll be top priority when we get back. Nothing much we can do now, is there?'

The young woman was chewing her lip. 'Shouldn't we say something to her mum? Or even Dynasty?'

Simon's attention was drifting, aware that time was marching on and that any moment he'd have to go into a huddle with Maggie, Tom, and Sonya to judge the bake-off. And there were still a handful of parents to chase regarding the changed half-term arrangements … He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze.

'When we get back, yeah? Send us an email over the break with some ideas from that lecture of yours and we'll hatch a plan.'

'But—'

Maggie was waving and Simon raised his hand to indicate he was coming. 'Not now, Mika, OK? Next half-term, I promise.'

By the time he reached Maggie he'd already more than half-forgotten the conversation.

* * *

**Mulgrew Household, 4.45pm**

* * *

Christine halted Connor as the subdued teenagers trooped past her on their way into the house.

'Well done, son. Winning the bake-off, that was… I'm proud of you.'

He shrugged. 'Doesn't seem to matter much right now, does it.'

'Oh, come on. Kevin'll be fine, you've got to think positively!' She reached out to touch his shoulder. 'The hospital have got my number, remember. Once we hear anything—anything at all—you'll be the first to know.'

'Even if they phone in the middle of the night 'cos he's worse?' Connor demanded. 'I'm serious, Mum. Don't try to protect us from this. If it looks bad for Kev you've gotta tell us, no matter what.'

'It won't come to that,' she said quickly.

Her son gave her a hard look. 'Yeah? So it's not true that one of the Havelock kids died?'

Christine grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the living room, leaning on the door to shut it while she hissed, 'Where'd you hear that? And for God's sake, keep your voice down. If Dynasty and Kacey hear—'

He disengaged himself from her hold with a swift twist. The movement was effortless, reminding her that he was no longer a child.

'There you go again. We're not little kids, any of us. Even Kace is sixteen… We're not stupid, Mum. We understand this 'flu is bad.' He paused before adding, 'Unlike you, throwing yourself over Kevin like that. _That_ was stupid. _Really_ stupid, considering.'

Christine was left staring after him as he slipped out of the living room without another word, and moved to sink limply onto her sofa, grabbing the soft woollen throw for comfort. No-one knew her better than Connor, even Tom could not read her with her son's unerring accuracy. She knew what he was hinting at; it was something she'd strived to avoid since Sonya's announcement that morning.

If Kevin had 'flu, she had to know whether she was pregnant or not. As Tom had said, 'flu could be dangerous for pregnant women. The swine flu epidemic had shown that… She pulled her throw closer. Clearly it hadn't occurred to _Tom_ that she could be pregnant, regardless of what they'd agreed the week before. Could he really be so naïve? And what would happen between them if her suspicions were correct?

She was shivering, and not just because the heating in the front room was poor. She'd already been abandoned once in pregnancy; she couldn't go through it again.

* * *

'_When were you plannin' on tellin' us?' Joe Mulgrew asked as she entered their bedroom after a shower, still wringing the water out of her hair._

_She looked at him, her hands dropping to tighten her dressing gown cord. 'What's that supposed to mean?' _

_Her husband snorted. 'D'you think I'm stupid, Chrissie?' He crossed to her, roughly pulling the knot undone so that the dressing gown fell open, revealing her naked form. 'I've seen pregnant women before. Whose is it? Were you just plannin' on presentin' me with the kid when it comes?' _

_Christine was breathing in frightened gasps, but she managed to get out an almost-steady 'I'm not pregnant.' She gave a half-laugh as her mind shied away from the truth that lay in memory. 'How could I get pregnant, you've been so busy on the farm we've hardly seen each other—'_

'_I know you've been creepin' out, I know you're bored,' Joe accused, thrusting his face into hers. 'Were you meetin' some fella, is that it?' _

'_I'm not pregnant,' she insisted, her voice beginning to tremble. _

_Joe laughed. 'Aye, and you've just suddenly jumped a cup size, eh?' He prodded at her, smirking when she flinched. 'Sensitive too, I see. When was your last period?' _

_Christine staggered back, realisation slamming into her with the force of a blow. He was right, oh God, he was _right_. She'd refused to acknowledge the symptoms, telling herself that she was just stressed, what with starting her teacher training and all. There was even a precedent; she'd stopped menstruating for a time after her sister's death some years before… but she couldn't bury her head in the sand any longer. She had to find a way to make sense of this for both of them, he couldn't know the truth._

_She lifted her chin and looked Joe straight in the eye. _

'_If I'm pregnant it's yours, course it is. You can't seriously think I'd go with someone else?' He was silent and she panicked. She could not consider the alternative, _would_ not consider it. 'Come on, Joe, say something! Just think, if it's a boy …' She slid her hands up his arms to rest on his shoulders. 'A son. You wanted a son for the farm, didn't you? To inherit all this… It's just come sooner than we thought, that's all.' She hoped her hands were not as clammily cold as she thought they were, hoped that they would not betray her through the cotton of his shirt. _

_Vain hope. _

_He threw her off, his gaze colder than it had ever been. 'I'm not buyin' it, Chrissie. I can't remember the last time we were together, it was that long ago.' He finished dressing, grabbing his jacket and preparing to leave the room. 'Get packin'. We're going back to Glasgow—tonight.'_

* * *

She climbed the stairs to the bathroom, her hands gripping the rails for support, and locked herself in, staring at her reflection in the mirror. The overhead light was cruel, highlighting every line that creased about her eyes and near her mouth. Her mouth quivered as she opened the cupboard and took out the pregnancy test, placing it on the ledge behind the taps.

Michael Byrne's features flashed into her mind, the look of horror on his face as he said 'I thought we were careful!' It had been of undiluted honesty, if nothing else. She should have taken note and refused ever to trust him again—but like a fool, she had.

_And Joe… _

Her lips compressed and she threw her head back, remembering. They'd returned to the small flat they shared in Glasgow, exchanging barely a word throughout the long drive. He'd wasted no time in gathering his things and walking out; he hadn't even left her with enough money to buy bread and milk. She had no choice but to return to her parents and they'd greeted her with an indifference that turned into contempt once they heard Joe's version of events. She'd moved on as soon as she could, choosing to endure the last difficult months of pregnancy alone.

_This is different. Tom loves me_, she told herself, reaching for the test. _I love him. If I'm pregnant we'll get through it. It was his idea to have a baby in the first place—_

She jumped when Connor hammered on the door, yelling, 'Mum, it's the hospital!' and paused only long enough to ram the test back into the cupboard while she leaned over to turn the key.

Four anxious teenagers tumbled in: Connor, phone in hand followed by Imogen, whiter than ever. Dynasty and Kacey clinging together, the blue of their eyes darkened almost to black.

Christine pressed the phone to her ear and concentrated on what the hospital was telling her. She had ask them to repeat it twice, turning away from the young people so she could focus on the soft voice at the other end of the line.

Finally, she hit the end call button and turned, trying to find the words as head and heart collided.

'Christine?' Dynasty prompted as the silence lengthened, her hands clasping and unclasping. '_Please_?'

She blew out a breath. 'They don't think it's 'flu.' The kids gave muted squeals of delight and she lifted a finger. 'Don't get too excited… I'm sorry, but they think—they think it's meningitis.'

'_What_?' Dynasty sank onto the edge of the bath. 'That's _worse_!'

'He's very ill,' Christine told her softly, digging deep for the strength she knew the girl needed. 'We'll just have to… wait and see.'

'Could he—' Connor tried.

Christine looked at him and knew what he wanted to ask. 'He's stable for now. That's all they're prepared to say for the moment.'

Dynasty gave a muffled sob and Imogen went to put an arm around her. 'Come on, let's you downstairs. You're staying here tonight, aren't you? In case there's more news?'

'I'm not,' Kacey said quickly. When Christine turned to her she gave that characteristic half-shrug. 'Can't leave me mum all alone, can I.'

'I'll bring you home,' Connor offered, glancing at his mother. 'That's OK, isn't it?' He'd got his license a short time before.

Christine nodded, remaining behind as the four moved on. Once again her gaze returned to the cabinet.

She should take that test. She really _should_.

Her mouth twitched as she reached to switch off the light. Kevin didn't have 'flu; meningitis wasn't as much of a threat, she knew that much. It allowed her to defer the moment of confirmation further and she was glad to do it. Being pregnant was too difficult, it posed too many problems and resurrected too many memories.

A voice that sounded like her mother's whispered in her mind:_ it's the sin you cannae hide. It'll show itself soon enough. _

She closed the door with a satisfying bang, shutting out painful past and confusing present alike.

* * *

**TBC**

_No prizes for guessing what the big plotline for the next episode is! __So, verdict? Does the flashback work? Would you like to see more of it, or keep the story focused in the present?_


	22. Episode 6-1

_I've had this bit planned in my head for some time so it came pretty quickly—hope you enjoy it! I know some of you will be glad to see this particularly storyline move towards a more definitive resolution._

_Reviews:_

_**Autograss T18**: I'm afraid not, for all sorts of reasons—not least the fact that a teacher-pupil relationship would be the height of unprofessionalism and totally out of character for Nikki. I might do something with Kacey and Nikki in the next story, but it won't be romantic—more likely to follow the show there._

_**Lori**: I don't think you'll be kept in suspense for much longer! And glad you liked the flashback—that's exactly why I wanted to do it, because we haven't seen it in the show. I doubt they'll return to it now, given Christine's demotion and Connor's departure._

_**Sophie**: Great, thanks! I'm hoping to add a few more!_

_**Guest**: LOL… well, here's more for now anyway._

_**Paisley**: Thanks, more shit-stirring from Mika to come! Some news re Kevin coming up too._

_**LittleBooLost**: Great, certainly hope to do more flashbacks where they fit._

_**Guest**: Generally I will focus on the present, but I'll incorporate the flashbacks when I think they add something… but not too much, so you needn't worry the story will become all or mainly flashback._

* * *

**Mulgrew Household, 7.00am**

* * *

'Hey,' Connor greeted as his wife entered the kitchen. He indicated the scrambled eggs in his pan. 'School time again. C'mon and get this down you before Mum and Tom scoff the lot.'

Imogen grinned and accepted her plate. 'I don't think your mum'll be doing the scoffin', she's still not right after that go of food poisoning we all had.'

'D'you think?' Connor dolloped his own serving of eggs over the rapidly cooling toast and joined his wife at the table. 'Thought she seemed OK last night.'

'H'mm.' She took a bite and glanced at him. 'Gonna be weird today, no Kevin.'

'Yeah.' He sighed, remembering the terrifying days and nights at the start of the holiday as they awaited news of their friend. 'At least he's out of danger. I know it'll be ages 'til he's himself, but at least there doesn't seem to be any permanent complications.' Imogen's expression clouded and remorse flooded him, causing him to lean over and put a hand on her arm. 'Hey, I'm sorry. That was tactless.'

His wife shrugged. ''S OK. Better get used to it, hadn't I? Lots of people going to be saying that. And I'm glad for him, really. I mean, it was OK for me, I was just a kid. I don't remember what it was like to be able to hear properly. For Kevin…' She shook her head. 'It'd be like getting thrown onto another world.'

'Is that the one with the alien tattoo artists?' Connor asked mock-seriously, wanting to make her smile. He got the smile—the kind that quivered reluctantly at the corners of her mouth—together with a kick on the shin that was hard enough to make him wince.

She smirked. 'That'll teach you to make fun of me.'

'Like I'd ever do that,' he grumbled, rubbing his abused shin. She was dressed down to her shoes and he was still in his PJs, such as they were. 'I once told Kev Dynasty had him right where she wanted him. Didn't realise I was talking about myself too!'

Imogen narrowed her eyes at him and then they were laughing and flicking bits of scrambled egg at each other.

'I hope you're plannin' on cleaning that up,' Tom commented sourly from behind them, and the two younger Mulgrews twisted towards him, exchanging guilty looks.

'I'll do it,' Imogen offered, jumping up. 'I'm nearly ready and Con's still to shower. Getting food?'

'Just tea and a bit of toast,' Tom said, crossing to the island and leaning heavily on it, one hand rubbing his face. 'I'll bring some up with me, see if I can convince Christine to eat it.'

'Is she still bein' sick?' Connor demanded, coming to shove a couple of slices into the toaster. It was so temperamental that both Imogen and Tom refused to have anything to do with it as a general rule. 'I was just saying, I thought she seemed better last night.'

Tom grimaced. 'So did I, but she was back over the bog first thing—and you know your mother, she won't go to the doctor's.'

'Is she staying off?' Connor asked.

Tom shook his head.

'Well, if it's just food poisoning—' Imogen pointed out. She pulled a grimace of her own. 'It was minging. I'm never goin' for sushi again _ever_, even if they do say it's not raw fish!'

Tom turned faintly green. 'Don't, please. I don't even want to _think_ about fish for a long while, let me tell you…' He eyed the toast Connor had slapped on a plate with clear disfavour. 'To tell the truth, not too keen on food myself. Can't blame Christine, I suppose. Is that tea ready?'

'Ready to go,' Imogen told him, plonking the pot, toast, and two mugs on a tray. 'Would sir like me to bring it up?'

Tom grinned, looking more like himself as he took the tray from her. 'Nah, you're good. Thanks, Im. You two ready to go by quarter to?'

'Sure,' Connor agreed easily, and returned to wiping down the worktops as the older man left. That done, he turned to his wife with a quip about the rest of the mess being her problem—only to abort it at sight of her frown.

'What's wrong?'

Her eyes were very large and wide. 'It _is_ kind of weird.'

'What is?'

'That your mum's still sick.'

'She had it worse than the rest of us,' Connor retorted, automatically defensive. 'She ran a temp and everythin'. The rest of us could keep little bits of food down, Mum couldn't manage that. Tom was getting worried about dehydration, I heard him say so.'

Imogen dropped her voice, her hands beginning to move in the shapes that were only just beginning to make sense to him. 'Do you think… Maybe it's not food poisoning at all!'

Connor frowned. 'What? She had the same food we did.'

'She didn't eat as much as we did. Doesn't make sense that it would make her sicker, _unless_ she'd food poisoning mixed with … something else.'

'Like what? You're not making sense.'

Imogen came closer. 'Honestly, Connor. Think about it. They were trying for a kid, remember?'

'That was weeks ago,' Connor protested. 'Haven't heard anything more, I thought they'd given up.'

His wife snorted. 'God, but men are hopeless. It only takes once, you know.' She nudged him. 'Bet that's it, it's not just food poisoning, it's morning sickness!'

Disquiet rippled through Connor. Now that he thought about it, it seemed so obvious. He hadn't altogether forgotten; he'd remembered his mum's desire for a baby when he pulled her away from Kevin a fortnight before, but that had been about the hypotheticals and what-ifs and a deeply seated and profound fear of losing his mother. He'd only been a kid during the 2009 pandemic, but he remembered the news saying that pregnant women were particularly vulnerable.

'If that's it, why hasn't she told us?' he asked Imogen now.

She looked knowing. 'It's too soon. She can't be any more than a few weeks and they say most women don't like to announce it before three months.'

Connor stumbled away from her, guilt filling him. 'That's not it. It's because of what I said, isn't it? She's scared to tell me in case I attack her again.'

He felt her hand land on his shoulder. 'Or maybe it's not you at all.' He glanced at her. 'It could be Tom, he could've changed his mind, who knows.'

Connor had become genuinely fond of Tom, but that did not stop his fists from clenching. 'He better not have, or I'll—I'll—'

'You'll knock his lights out? For God's sake, Connor, get a grip. I thought we'd been through this. This is your mum's problem, your mum's and Tom's. He's a good guy, he won't leave her in the lurch—'

'Tom doesn't know,' Connor interrupted. 'He still thinks it's food poisoning, doesn't he? You heard him, that means you're right, he's changed his mind if he didn't even think of it.' He clutched his hair. 'Shit, this is what I was worried about. What are we gonna do?'

Imogen took his arm and dragged him towards the stairs. '_We_ are gonna do nothing—or not until we've given them a chance to sort out their messes themselves.' He heard her huff as she prodded him up to their room. '_Parents_. Honestly, they're more trouble than they're worth sometimes!'

* * *

**Waterloo Road Staff Toilets, 8.20am**

* * *

Sue slammed the door of the toilet cubicle shut and locked it, not even daring to breathe until she'd heard the bolt ram home. Simon had insisted that she come in early with him this morning, and he'd been so off with her through their entire fortnight's break that she wasn't prepared to argue. Louisa hadn't been much use either; she'd nagged ceaselessly for news of Kevin Chalk until Sue felt she would spontaneously combust if she heard the names 'Kevin' or 'Christine' one more time. She still couldn't understand why Simon hadn't phoned the hospital and made himself their first port of call, but he'd flatly refused when she proposed it.

'The hospital's used to Christine and Maggie. Don't want to confuse them and prevent important news getting through.'

'It seems crazy to me,' she'd grumbled. 'You're giving that Christine a foot in the door again. Do you want that?'

Simon had given her a look that chilled her to her very marrow and left without another word. When she glanced at Louisa, naturally expecting some sort of support from that quarter, her niece had simply said, 'You're a bitch, Auntie Sue' and followed Simon out.

She put the toilet seat down and sat on it. More and more, she was becoming convinced that all the difficulties she was experiencing were down to Christine Mulgrew. It was Christine's fault that Simon was growing colder by the day, Christine's fault that her classes wouldn't behave, Christine's fault that she couldn't settle into the social rhythms of the staff room, Christine's fault…

The inner litany came to an abrupt halt when she heard the door open and running heels clipped very close to Sue—the other woman, whoever it was, must be in the next cubicle—and then came the unmistakable sound of someone being sick.

Sue clapped a hand over her mouth, intent on suppressing any whimper, cry or scream.

_Breathe, just breathe_, she told herself. _In… and out. In… and out. No-one's dying, it's just someone who's eaten something that's disagreed with them, or—or—_

'Christine?'

Sue froze. The retching stopped and she could hear the rustle of someone (Christine?) moving.

'Go away, Maggie. I'm fine.' She sounded ragged, her voice thinner than usual.

A second set of heels clipped closer.

'You don't look it, flower. Sound it, either. Sonya sent me in, you scared her silly running off like that.' Another series of rustles and Sue realised that Maggie must've come nearer still; the catty part of her mind wondered how both women were able to squeeze into a single cubicle.

'Just… back off. I said I was fine, didn't I? _Oh_…' More retching, mingling with crooning noises that Sue assumed came from Maggie. She liked Maggie—or would have done if the older woman hadn't established herself so firmly as one of Christine's acolytes.

A long pause, then Maggie said, gently, 'Are you pregnant?'

'Don't be ridiculous.' Christine's tone was short. 'It's just a go of food poisoning, that's all. Dodgy Japanese last week, we all had it.'

A second pause.

'I don't believe you.'

'Now, Maggie—'

'Now, Maggie nothin'. I've got eyes in me 'ead, haven't I? You've put a wee touch of weight on, petal, I can see it. You're bein' sick. Suggestive, eh?'

'We _did_ all have food poisoning.' Christine's tone had turned defensive. 'I'm not lying.'

'Maybe just to yourself, h'mm? I know you're good at that.' A beat, then softly, 'You don't have to, pet. We're all here for you.'

Christine made a sound that Sue couldn't decipher. 'I—… oh, damn you, Maggie Budgen!' Her voice was rough. 'Fine. It's a possibility, OK?'

'A possibility? Haven't you done a test?'

'No.'

'Why not?'

'Because I don't want to know, all right?' Christine was so sharp that Sue flinched. 'Look, Tom and I decided to try and then… and then he changed his mind. I couldn't tell him it might already be too late, he thinks I'm on the pill!'

Sue sat up straight as Maggie said, 'Ah. You're not?'

'Come on, what do you think? I'm a drunk, d'you really think I'd remember to take a bloody oral contraceptive when half the time I couldn't get myself dressed without Connor's help? It wasn't an issue; believe it or not, I'm not in the habit of falling into bed with random men.'

'Sweetheart, that was _then_, this is now. Are you telling me you've been sober for a year and you spent some of that time with Michael and now Tom, but…?'

A gusty sigh. 'No. Didn't see the point. We were always careful and my periods haven't been regular for the past year or so anyway.' Another half-laugh, this one edged with irony. 'It'd be just my luck, wouldn't it? I get raped, I get pregnant. I go for years without anything more than the odd tumble and … nothing. Then my partner decides he wants a kid and _bingo_! … And _then_ he changes his mind!'

'Well, you can't leave it any longer,' Maggie said firmly. 'If I can see it, others will. We've had two weeks off, folks'll be likely to notice even tiny changes. You need to find out for sure and you need to tell Tom as soon as.'

Silence.

'Christine?'

'I know, I know.' It was nearly a whisper. 'God, Maggie, I'm so scared. What if he leaves me?'

'Tom Clarkson?' Maggie laughed. 'You've got to be joking, he'll be over the moon!'

'He might not be,' Christine murmured. 'Not if he thinks I've tricked him.'

'Well, there's only one way to find out. You have to tell him, you can't hide it forever and you don't want him to work it out for himself.'

'_No_.' Christine sounded appalled, Sue thought.

'So you'll tell him? Today?'

'I'll—I'll tell him soon,' Christine temporised. 'Please, Maggie, let me choose the time. I need to get my own head 'round it first, and then there's the kids—'

'Fair enough.' More rustling sounds, noises that Sue thought indicated that Maggie was rising to her feet. 'Just don't leave it too long, eh?'

'No… and thanks. You're a good friend.'

'You're welcome, flower. Look after yourself, you hear?' Christine hummed in assent and Maggie added, 'I'm just goin' back in. See you in a tick.'

'Sure,' Sue heard Christine murmur as the bathroom door closed. The toilet flushed and Sue tensed.

What to do? Remain quiet and let Christine leave, oblivious to the fact that she'd been overheard? Or say something and…

A cat-like smile curved her lips. Christine Mulgrew had had things her own way for long enough, and Sue was sick-and-tired of always, _always_ feeling inferior. It was time to redress the balance.

Deliberately she moved her feet on the ground, making no attempt to soften the harsh click of stiletto heel meeting lino-covered concrete. She stood, similarly making no attempt to be quiet.

'Who's there?' Christine called.

Still smiling, Sue unlatched her door and peeped around it as it swung back. 'Only me.'

Christine was white to the lips. 'Is it? Only you?'

'Of course it's only me, just little old me,' Sue half-sang, circling the other woman. 'I must say, Mrs Mulgrew, that was … interesting.'

Christine licked her lips. 'What… what are you going to do?'

Sue tilted her head. 'Oh, I haven't decided yet.' She batted her eyelashes. 'You do seem awfully keen to keep it quiet. Why? Planning an abortion before Tom finds out?'

If Christine had been pale before she was now nearly grey. 'No!'

'Hmmm.' Sue studied her. 'I suppose that's unlikely, you kept the other one. Very… laudable, I'm sure. So, when are you going to tell?'

'I—I don't know.'

'Maybe you'll lose it,' Sue said brightly. 'At your age, and you said yourself, you're a drunk. That'd solve all your problems, wouldn't it?'

Christine moved as if to reach out and changed her mind. 'Please, Sue. Let me deal with this my own way… _please_.'

Triumph surged through Sue.

'What's it worth?'

The hazel eyes facing hers hardened. 'I'm not going to be blackmailed, if that's what you're getting at.'

'No?' Sue examined her nails; the red polish on her forefinger had chipped. She frowned and used the other index finger to caress it, as if she could rub out the blemish. 'Oh, well. In that case I might tell Tom… or I might not. I might tell him today… or I might not.'

She flashed a smile at the older woman. 'I suppose it just depends on how I feel, doesn't it?' She gave a little giggle, wiggling her fingers in farewell as she brushed past Christine, and hummed happily as she made her way to the staff room. All at once it no longer held any terrors for her.

* * *

_H'mmm. I've said before, I'm really enjoying doing evil!Sue, but am I going too far with it? Is it believable, both in the context of this story and what we've seen from her throughout Season 9 as a whole? I do have a feeling that bitchy!Sue will continue through 9c, and that there'll be ructions in the staff room once Christine returns as an 'ordinary' teacher. Not necessarily between Christine and Sue, though, could just as easily be Audrey and Sue._


	23. Episode 6-2

_Apologies for the (multiple) delays in getting this up. Trying desperately to get dogsitting sorted out while I'm on holiday in Oct, plus trying to choose paint, tiles, bathroom fittings, doing living room designs… Aaaaaggh. Can't wait until this house renovation is under way! Back to the story, I was completely taken aback to the huge response to the last bit; major,_ major _thanks for that!_

_**Sophiex**__: Thanks! I generally update once a week/every ten days depending on general levels of chaos. If it's late I'll post to that effect on the story blurb. _

_**Guest**__: *g* All this violence directed at Sue! Yeah, it'll take a while… _

_**Niamhemilee**__: A few days late, but here you go!_

_**LittleBooLost**__: EvilSue is way too much fun. Glad you enjoyed the last bit so much!_

_**loveistheprotection**__: Thanks for saying Sue's true to character! I thought so, but it's easy to go too far. _

_**Sophie**__: More bitchy Sue coming right up. Sort of. _

_**Paisley**__: That's a really good point re Sue and emetophobia. I hadn't consciously thought of it in those terms, but I suppose she does! _

_**Jessiekat89**__: Some developments this time, more next re Christine's pregnancy(?)_

_**Loulouberry**__: Sue isn't entirely evil. More stuff on her family coming up next 'episode' which should round the evilness out a bit. _

_**Lori**__: I LOL'd at 'Tomstine'! I like it. :)_

_**Guest**__: Thanks. Hope you enjoy this bit too. _

_**Guest**__: I think you've absolutely hit the nail on the head re Sue. She's got an absolutely critical lack of self-confidence/is majorly insecure. That's where quite a bit of this coming from. _

_**lola**__: I'm not so sure now that we will see Sue/Hector. The actors are married to each other, maybe that's where the chemistry came from rather than an indication that Sue's gonna cheat on Simon. We'll see… if it ever comes back on, grr!_

* * *

**Assembly Hall, 8.50am**

* * *

'You OK?' Tom murmured as Christine slipped into the spare place beside him. 'You've gone pasty again.'

'Just a bit queasy,' she said, leaning forward to place her bag on the floor before straightening, praying that the shock resulting from her encounter with Sue wasn't too obvious.

'I don't think we'll be back to that Japanese,' Tom said darkly. 'I'm tempted to ring the manager and complain. Or get the kids to use social media or somethin', that's totally unacceptable. There's gotta be something seriously wrong with their health and safety for us all to get sick like that.'

'Oh, come on, we've been there before,' Christine protested. 'The chef could've been having an off-day, there might have been something wrong with the supplies, who knows. Just forget it, I'm fine.'

'You don't look it.' Tom reached over to squeeze her fingers. 'Sure you wouldn't rather go home?'

Her heart missed a beat at the mere idea. Going home would simply open the way for Sue.

She returned the squeeze and forced a smile. 'Hey. Stop worrying, OK? I'm _fine_, I promise.' She shifted on her seat, anxious to change the subject. 'Where's Simon?'

Her lover rolled his eyes. 'Preparing an entrance, probably. He does love his drama, does our Simon.'

Christine couldn't help laughing at that—especially when the lights on the stage went out long enough for Simon to reach the lectern, and returned only with the harsh glare of a projected presentation highlighting the Headmaster's silhouette.

'Welcome back, boys and girls!' Simon began, gesturing expansively. 'I know we finished on a dark note a fortnight ago, but it's almost spring now, time to think of the future and to think _positive_. First of all, Kevin Chalk.' The rustlings in hall stilled. 'He's recovering well. Slowly, but well.' The Head turned to gesture towards Christine. 'If you want further details on that, Mrs Mulgrew can answer your questions—as of course can our three most senior prefects, Dynasty Barry, Imogen Mulgrew, and Connor Mulgrew. We're hoping he'll be well enough to return to us for a few hours next week, but we'll have to wait and see. Recovery from meningitis can't be rushed.

'And in the spirit of getting people healthy, that's what we're going to focus on for the rest of this term.' A flash of white as the presentation changed; Christine could not see its contents from her vantage point, but the kids' expressions told their own story, ranging as they did from gleeful to horrified. Kacey Barry in particular stood out; she looked nearly ghoulish in the blue light cast by the projector screen.

'Being healthy isn't just about your body, it's about your mind and how you see yourself and the world around you. So… we're gonna start with that, we're calling it "Love Yourself". Your form tutors are gonna take a photo of each and every one of you for posting on the notice board in your form rooms. During today and throughout the next week I want everyone to take the time to look at those photos and write something positive about the subject on the reverse, while space allows. _Positive_, people,' Simon emphasised as Christine and Tom exchanged an alarmed glance. It didn't require much imagination to see how this scheme could go awry. 'The aim is to make people feel _good_ about themselves, yeah?'

The school mumbled a response and Simon rattled on.

'Being able to get on with other people is also an important part of how we see ourselves, and that's especially crucial for our seniors. In a few weeks Years 11 and 12 will be undertaking a series of challenges designed to develop their interpersonal and leadership skills—and the rest of you won't be left out,' he added. 'They'll be practicing those skills on you lot.' The school groaned and Simon gestured again. 'Come on, it'll be great! It'll be a laugh, we'll have fun and learn something too.'

'Want to bet those are famous last words?' Tom hissed in Christine's ear as the Head continued to ramble, and she glanced at him.

'Didn't you know about this?'

'Not me.' Tom sounded disgruntled—disgruntled and annoyed, she thought, and with good cause. As Deputy Head he should have been consulted, at the very least.

Her gaze fell on his stepdaughter, sitting nearly opposite them at the other side of the lectern. 'Mika knew,' she told Tom.

'Don't be daft, how could she know?'

'She doesn't look surprised,' Christine murmured. 'Even Sue looks unhappy, Simon really shouldn't have sprung this on us with no warning.'

Tom groaned. 'Bugger. I don't like that, Chris. Mika and Simon, they're getting too close for my liking.'

She cast him a startled look. 'What?'

'Yeah.' He folded his arms, his eyes narrowing as he studied his stepdaughter. 'I think they've been meeting after school, she's too flirty with him.'

'But he's with Sue!' Christine protested, involuntarily glancing her way. The younger woman was sitting with her arms crossed defensively, looking profoundly miserable.

'I've a feeling things aren't good between them,' Tom told her quietly as Simon dismissed everyone and the staff began to move. 'Haven't been good for a while. I don't think, uh, him becoming Head has worked out as she hoped.'

Christine bit her lip, her stomach flipping unpleasantly. 'Because of me, you mean.'

Tom didn't insult her by pretending otherwise. 'I don't think she expected Simon to… be nice.'

'Excuse me,' Sue herself said sweetly. 'Let a little one past?'

Christine moved obediently out of the way, her pulse ratcheting as Sue glanced meaningly from herself to Tom. Had she overheard their conversation? Would Tom notice that oh-so-inward look? Her head spun and she staggered.

'Whoa!' Tom steadied her, frowning. 'Chris, I really think you should go to the doctor's. This is getting silly.'

She opened her mouth to utter another reassuring lie, but the frank concern in his eyes stopped her. He didn't deserve this, he deserved the truth, but her throat was so tight she couldn't get the words out.

It was a relief when the bell went and she had to go, her stomach churning anew at the memory of Sue's threats and Maggie's gentler reproof. They were both right. Tom deserved to know, and it'd be infinitely better if he heard the news from her, regardless of the consequences.

* * *

**Mrs Mulgrew's room, 10.00am**

* * *

'Kacey! Anything you'd like to add to the discussion?'

Kacey started, roused abruptly from dark thoughts that revolved around Mr Lowsley's latest plan. 'What? I, uh… miss, I dunno!'

Mrs Mulgrew gave her a long look. 'Well, I suggest you start paying attention, h'mm? The poem's on the board. Read it, have a think and I'll come back to you. Lula—you've been waving your hand for the past five minutes, speak now—'

'—Or forever hold your peace!' someone piped up from the back, and the class laughed. Even Mrs Mulgrew laughed while Kacey shifted awkwardly and squinted at the whiteboard to read:

_In youth, it was a way I had,_

_To do my best to please._

_And change, with every passing lad_

_To suit his theories._

_But now I know the things I know_

_And do the things I do,_

_And if you do not like me so,_

_To hell, my love, with you._

She swallowed, glancing resentfully at the English teacher. First Mr Lowsley, banging on about this plan of his in assembly, and then Miss McFall had sent a message via Lula (Kacey wasn't doing History GCSE) to the effect that her entire form was to come to her at break for the photos. And now this! What was Mrs Mulgrew doing, getting on Lousy's bandwagon? You'd have thought she'd be the _last_ person—

'So, Kacey! Back to you. What's Dorothy Parker saying here?'

Kacey couldn't meet the older woman's eyes. 'That—that you should just be yourself, like.' She peeked at Mrs Mulgrew through the straggly ends of her fringe, reassured when the teacher nodded encouragingly. 'That you shouldn't change just to keep other people happy.'

Mrs Mulgrew gave an approving nod. 'Excellent. Yes, Archie?'

'I think she'd dead sexist, miss. Actually, I think this whole "Love Yourself" thing is dead sexist. Mainly for the girls, isn't it, what about us?'

'Is that what you think?' Mrs Mulgrew backed away from Kacey's desk to lean against her own. 'Well, to the best of my knowledge Dorothy Parker was woman, so you can't blame her for writing her own experience—but I will say, Archie, that it's one that rings true for most women. However, you do have a point. What do the rest of you think? Are self-esteem and body image just for girls?'

'Self-esteem is for _everyone_,' Lula declared with her usual energy. 'When you have nothing else, it is the one thing no-one can take from you. You have to believe in yourself, to _know_ that you are worth something—and then you can do _anything_.'

Pure envy swept through Kacey; she knew Lula's life had not been easy, but despite that she'd somehow gained a confidence and strength that Kacey believed she herself could never have. Lula would never be invisible, or wish to be… and it was all Kacey wanted, to shrink until she was practically non-existent.

'It's peer pressure, innit,' Harley offered. 'We both 'ave it, boys and girls, but it shows different.' Kacey twisted to look at him; his expression was grave. 'Girls worry more about theirs looks an' that, they think people won't like 'em if they don't look right.'

Kacey went cold, ice replacing the blood in her veins as he met her gaze. Did Harley suspect her secret? She hunched her shoulders and turned, wringing her hands under the desk as Harley's voice faded into nothing, drowned out by what was going on inside her own head.

'And boys worry about different things, you're right there,' Mrs Mulgrew was saying. 'But it all comes down to the same thing, doesn't it? Everyone wants to be liked, to be accepted, to _fit in_. But that doesn't mean you all need to become little clones of each other, think how boring that would be! Like Dorothy Parker, we—that is, the staff—would like to see you lot have the confidence to say "to hell with you" to people who won't accept that it's OK to be different, that it's OK to not follow the crowd. We want independent minds here at Waterloo Road—and there's the bell for Break, so off you go!'

The inevitable rustles, clatters and clangs followed, and Kacey bent her head as she deliberately dawdled over putting her possessions away.

'Kacey.' She looked up to see Mrs Mulgrew beside once again. 'Stay behind a moment?'

Wordlessly she nodded, once again trying to swallow away the dryness in her mouth. At least this meant she'd be late for McFall's photography session, with any luck she'd miss it altogether—

'Is everything OK? It's not like you to be so distracted.'

She kept her face averted. 'Fine, miss.'

Mrs Mulgrew took a seat across the aisle. 'Are you sure? I know I'm not your headteacher any more, but if ever you need an ear… And Mr Clarkson's always here for you too.'

'Thanks, miss.' She glanced up at Mrs Mulgrew, all of a sudden wishing that she _could_ talk to her, say something—anything—that would give her an excuse for not going to her form room, but her tongue seemed tied in knots and she couldn't find the words.

'OK,' Mrs Mulgrew said softly as the silence lengthened. Kacey could feel the teacher's eyes on her and she shuffled. 'OK, well, you'd better get to Miss McFall, hadn't you?'

All at once the stranglehold on Kacey's throat eased and she threw up her chin. 'I'm not goin', this is dead stupid! I'm not havin' me photo taken for everyone to point an' laugh at, Mr Lowsley's a nutjob. I mean, has he even _met_ Darren Hughes?!'

'Darren's hardly model material himself,' Mrs Mulgrew pointed out, gesturing towards the noticeboard to the right of her desk. 'Have a look if you don't believe me.'

Kacey glanced over, squinting to see. Sure enough, Darren's photo showed him looking more gormless than usual—but it didn't allay her fear. 'It's not the same!'

Mrs Mulgrew sighed.

'Look, this is only going to work if everyone takes part. I know it's scary, but it's a risk everyone has to take, do you see? No-one can be singled out because let's face it, it's too easy to take revenge.'

'Guess so,' Kacey muttered.

Mrs Mulgrew pushed to her feet. 'Come on, I'll bring you to Miss McFall's. It'll be fine, honestly.'

Kacey halted as they approached the door. 'You won't tell her I freaked out?'

'I won't tell her,' the older woman promised, holding the door. 'Go on.'

Kacey followed meekly, too intimidated by Mrs Mulgrew's brisk authority to protest further, her stomach twisting into knots so tight that even the little she'd had for breakfast weighed on her like stones. As Mrs Mulgrew passed her over to her form teacher with the briefest of brief explanations, Kacey licked her lips and summoned a rictus smile. There was no point in making a fuss, they wouldn't get it—and when McFall was done, she'd go to the loos and the relieve herself of as much of the burden as she could.

* * *

**Staff Room, 10.55am**

* * *

'Christine, I was wondering where you were,' Maggie Budgen remarked as the English teacher entered. 'Audrey made a pot; it's ready for you, just help yourself.'

'Thanks,' Christine said, crossing to the kitchenette. Sue's eyes followed her, remembering the confessions she'd overheard that morning. 'I can do with it, believe me.'

'I'm sure you can,' Maggie said meaningly, and Sue saw Christine give her a sharp look of warning as Tom and Mika entered the staffroom, both talking hard.

'Hey,' Tom greeted, coming to perch on the arm of Christine's chair. 'You feeling better?' He gestured at the cup she held, and Sue's mouth quivered in a smirk when Christine answered.

'Not too bad, thanks. How was the lesson?'

'It was fine. She did all the work,' he continued with a grin, jerking a thumb towards Mika. 'Kept them at it, there wasn't a squeak out of place. She'll be after our jobs at this rate!'

A surge of black jealousy washed over Sue as Mika rolled her eyes and made a quip that set the other teachers to laughing. Mika seemed to have it all, she thought, resentment mingling with wistfulness. She was already a better teacher than Sue was, QTS or no QTS, she had a gorgeous kid, a stepdad who loved her without condition, and she seemed to fit in Waterloo Road's staffroom in a way Sue herself had never managed.

The connecting door to the offices opened and Simon came through. Sue smiled up at him, but he wasn't looking at her. Worse, he didn't even seem to notice she was there, his gaze drawn to the chatter and laughter coming from the group surrounding the older teachers and Mika.

'What's the joke?' he asked, grinning himself as he joined them. 'Hey, was just wondering if you lot could give me a heads-up on how the new initiative's going? Everyone got their photos done?'

'I'll do my group later,' Tom told him. 'I'm not sure the kids are entirely on board with it, but it's certainly—uh—got them talking.'

'Mine are done,' Audrey McFall said, leaning forward with one of her crinkly smiles. 'Thanks to Christine; she chivvied in my last straggler.'

'Who was that?' Tom asked.

Christine sighed. 'Kacey Barry.'

'All mine are done,' Maggie announced. 'Told 'em I'd make sure they got semolina for dessert for t'next week if they played up. That settled 'em, I'm tellin' yer.'

'Christine?'

Christine nodded, glancing up at Simon. 'I did mine first lesson. I'm not saying they're any good, mind you, but they're done!'

'I think it's a fantastic plan,' Mika said, dimpling up at Simon as he twinkled back in a manner that Sue knew all too well. It made her gasp, as if someone had kicked her in the stomach. Mika was supposed to be her _friend_. 'I wish we'd done it when I was at school.'

Tom gave a theatrical groan. 'With all due respect, I'm glad we didn't.'

Mika was still teasing him when the bell went, and Sue's eyes narrowed as she studied the other young woman as the staffroom emptied. Mika needed something else to think of, she decided, something that would keep her from sniffing around Simon. One corner of her mouth lifted as Christine and Tom swept past, providing the necessary inspiration. Mika adored Tom, and Sue knew she was ambivalent at best about his relationship with Christine. If Mika knew what Sue knew…

And as luck would have it, they were both free during the next lesson. Mika was already laying out her folders. Sue allowed the smirk to turn into a smile. All she had to do was drop a few choice words—and her work would be done.

* * *

**_I _was_ going to write the conversation between Mika and Sue, but decided it'd be much more fun to leave it to your imaginations!_**

**_Next time: Mika responds to Sue's revelations and Audrey makes an unpleasant discovery._**


	24. Episode 6-3

_My timetable for this is slipping badly, so I do apologise. However, as I said in my note last time, I expect to return to normal by mid October. My house is literally being knocked down inside and rebuilt, so you can imagine the chaos! Hopefully by then we'll also know when WR is back on. My bet is that it will return the week after GBBO finishes, which would make it…*checks calendar*… either the 15__th__ or the 22__nd__. I think it'll have to be one of those because otherwise 9c will run into the New Year and I can't imagine they want that! Unless they bring it back on a Thurs in which case it could be sooner… Can only hope._

_Thanks for the reviews as always! To the Guest who commented on my portrayal of Kacey and ED: I haven't been there myself in person, but I've lived with someone who had (and indeed still struggles) with ED, so I've some idea of the issues and mindset. _

_Enjoy this and expect to have more in a fortnight. I may post before then but I'm worried that the distractions are affecting this in terms of pace and impact, and I'd rather make you wait for something decent than just rush out something that has you all going 'meh, is that it?'. _

* * *

**Mr Clarkson's office, 11.50am**

* * *

Tom was trying to bury himself in Year 13's latest (and hopefully final) attempt at their A'level coursework when a knock sounded on the door.

'Come in!' he called, frowning as he put a green pen through a particularly idiotic statement. Hadn't _anyone_ been listening?

'D'you have a minute to talk?'

The tension in his stepdaughter's voice made him glance up sharply. Mika was standing in front of his desk, her teeth digging deeply into her lips and her hands wringing in a way that recalled her schooldays. He tried to fire his pen into the caddy that stood on his desk; it missed, and something heavy and dull settled low in his belly when neither the grin nor smart comment he expected was forthcoming in response.

He sighed. ''Course I do. Always. You're my girl, right?'

'And you're my dad,' she said fiercely. 'I love you Tom, you're one of the most important people in my life. I want you to be _happy_.' The last word was almost a plea.

He tried to be jocular. 'Hey, what's this about, don't I look blissfully loved up at the minute?' He pulled a face. 'Or I would, if it wasn't for that bloody sushi.'

She didn't smile. 'Do you love Christine? I mean honest-to-god _love_ her?' A pause. 'Like you loved my mum?' Another pause. '_More_ than you loved my mum?'

'Mika—'

'Just tell me, Tom. This is important!'

He studied her, trying to work out if she was sincere or just stirring. Her blue eyes met his gaze steadily and there was something there, something that told him she wasn't trying to cause trouble… The weight in his belly grew heavier. 'Yeah, yeah, I do.' He couldn't say anything more, English teacher or not, he couldn't find the words to explain to her what Christine had come to mean to him.

'What if she's been lying to you?'

He actually laughed. 'What? Don't be daft, we've been through too much for that.'

'She has,' Mika insisted.

Tom's jaw hardened. 'Yeah? Well, I don't want to know.'

'She _has_,' Mika said again. 'Tom, I don't want you to get hurt and I know how devastated you were about Josh when you found out. I don't want you to go through that again!'

He half-rose from his seat, bracing himself by placing his hands square on desk. 'If you're so determined to tell me just spit it out,' he told her in a hard tone. 'None of this dancing and hinting, Mika, I won't stand for it.'

'She's pregnant,' Mika said, and he fell back into his seat with a hard thump.

'She's not. She can't be, we decided it wasn't the right time and stopped—'

'_You_ decided, you mean,' Mika corrected. '_She_ didn't go back on the pill.' She shook her head. 'I've never liked her and now… what've you got yourself into? I hope you were serious when you said you loved her, 'cos she's got you trapped!'

'Trapped?' he repeated numbly.

'Yeah, she had you well sized up. You're a good man, too good for the likes of her. Her son's growing up, she's a recovering alkie who's never had to fend for herself. She's just looking for her next stooge and you… you came along at _just_ the right time. You're kind and caring and you'd never walk out on a woman who had your child, not after Lorna.'

The heavy weight in Tom's stomach churned and bubbled and for a moment he thought he was going to lose the tea and biscuit he'd had at break. It all made a horrible kind of sense… he knew Christine was terrified almost beyond reason of being left alone. Another child would keep her company even if he left, and as Mika said, after Lorna he'd never consider abandoning a woman who was pregnant with his child. A win-win situation as far as Christine was concerned.

His stomach flipped again and he swallowed hard, the sour bile in his mouth reminding him of Christine's ongoing sickness. A sickness that seemed to come and go, Connor had commented at breakfast that his mother had seemed herself the night before… only to be ill again several hours later. Now he saw it wasn't the aftereffects of the food poisoning as he'd thought… which explained the anomaly of her lingering symptoms after the rest of them had recovered…

'How—how do you know this?' he asked tightly, his pulse swooping loudly in his ears.

Mika hesitated and hope flooded through Tom, the waves of it touched with anger.

'You better be damned sure—'

'I am,' she put in hastily. 'But you mightn't think so.'

He slammed a hand on his desk so hard that the whole thing rattled. 'Bloody hell, Mika, this is my life you're talking about! Stop talking in riddles—'

'It was Sue!' she shouted back. 'I know you'll probably scoff and that, but I believe her! Sue overheard Christine and Maggie this morning in the loos, Christine was sick and Maggie confronted her and Christine admitted it! You can ask Maggie if you don't believe me!'

If Mika had simply mentioned Sue as her source Tom would have thrown her out. All the staff knew of Sue's all-too-obvious dislike of the former Head, but Maggie was less easily dismissed. _And_ it made sense of the way he'd seen Maggie fuss over Christine at break.

He ran his hands through his hair, mind and emotions going haywire. His heart was telling him it didn't matter, he and Christine had discussed kids anyway, he loved her and he'd promised not to leave, no matter what…

And his head argued that she'd deceived him by not telling him she wasn't on the pill, by not admitting her suspicions that she was pregnant. It wasn't the betrayal that Georgia's had been with Josh, but it was still a betrayal of sorts—especially from _her_. A child would transform their lives and their relationship and he deserved to be included in every step, not simply used as an unwitting sperm donor (again). At least there was no question of turkey basters this time.

A harsh laugh escaped him.

'Are you OK?' Mika sounded nervous.

'What is it about me, eh?' he demanded. 'Lorna and the abortion. Georgia and Josh. And now Christine—' His voice failed.

'It's not you, it's them.' Mika paused. 'What are you gonna do?'

He shook his head. 'I don't know.' Part of him longed to head upstairs to Christine's room, to burst in on her with bitter recriminations. Part of him hoped that there was an explanation for the seeming lie.

His stepdaughter reared back. 'You're not gonna stay with her?' His lips tightened and her eyes went wide. 'Tom!'

'Just tell me one thing,' he asked, his tone hard. 'Are you telling me this because you care about my happiness, or because you've taken a dislike against Christine? Or because Brett's cheated on you and you're trying to turn back the clock?'

Her face crumpled. 'I just want everything to be the way it was,' she whispered. 'To feel _safe_. Just you and me and Tommy and Chlo and Donte and the kids. Just us. _We're_ your family, not Christine bloody Mulgrew!'

'But I love her,' he told her softly. 'I don't know what I'm gonna do about this… this pregnancy thing. I have to talk to her first, I'm not gonna make any decisions before I do that.' Mika's head had dropped and Tom circled his desk to lift her chin, forcing a meeting of their gazes. 'Don't make me choose between you.'

He could see the muscles in her throat constrict as she swallowed. 'Tom. _Dad_—'

He took her head in his hands and dropped a kiss on the top of it, on the spot where her headband always used to rest. 'Just go away and let me think this over, yeah? You don't understand what's at stake.' Perhaps Christine's sanity, he thought ruefully, remembering Connor's her sobriety. Could he responsible for jeopardising either? The very idea made his insides quiver. 'The bell's gonna go soon and I want to take a walk before my next lesson. Clear my head.'

She nodded in jerky agreement and left, one hand dashing at her eyes. He glanced at his watch; another ten minutes to go. Enough time … but not too much. Not enough to do or say something he'd regret.

His jaw clenched and he walked down the long corridor towards the stairs, taking the bottom handful two at a time. He ascended the second flight more slowly, almost reluctant to reach the top and Christine's door.

He stood looking through the window for what seemed like endless moments, watching her. He'd rarely seen her teach and just now she was in full flow, moving with an energy and purpose that made him smile despite himself.

And then she noticed him, her smile flashing as she raised a finger in a gesture that said 'hi' and he whisked away from the door, his heart pounding hard in his chest.

He loved her. God, he loved her. But if she'd really lied to him about this, after everything he and she and they had endured… he didn't know if love would be enough. Not for this.

* * *

**Miss McFall's room, 12.10pm**

* * *

'So, let's look at the question again, shall we?' Audrey twinkled at her Year 10 GCSE group, trying her best to be cheery but her heart sinking at the near universal expressions of boredom that confronted her. 'The League of Nations, why did it fail?'

Darren Hughes yawned loudly and tipped his chair back, his lanky arms reaching up to play with the wall of photographs behind him. Not for the first time, Audrey cursed herself for not preventing him from sitting in the back row—but somehow he always managed to evade her.

After an awkward pause, Lenny Brown raised a hand. She nodded.

''Cos they were wimps, miss.' Several people tittered. 'They wouldn't stand up for what they believed in, would they?'

'For example?' Audrey prodded, inwardly surprised. Neither of the Brown twins could be considered enthusiastic historians, but Lisa had always struck her as the more capable of the two.

'It's like that appeasement thing,' Lenny went on. 'Germany and Italy an' that, they kept pushin' and pushin' and Britain and France and the rest… they did nothin'.'

'They were scared,' Lisa said from across the classroom, twisting to look at her twin. 'All them politicians, they could remember the First World War, couldn't they?'

'Exactly!' Audrey beamed. 'You can't ignore that, the First World War affected everyone's life in one way or another. It was a traumatic event. Well done, both of you.'

'Who cares?' Shaznay demanded, her chin at its usual aggressive angle. 'All dead an' gone now, innit. History's just a great big fat waste of time.'

'It's got nothin' to do with that,' Lenny told her, and Audrey wondered if her eyes were popping out of her skull. The boy had always seemed so quiet; even in Grantly House he was quiet. 'It's about standin' up to bullies. If you let them get away with it, they do it again, but worse. That's what Chamberlain an' all did.'

'Here's a better idea,' Darren volunteered as Shaznay scoffed, his chair still tilted back so that it rested against the low row of bookcases than ran underneath 11M's form notice board. 'If you can't beat 'em, join 'em, eh?' He raised one hand in an ostentatious salute—just as his chair wobbled and dumped him unceremoniously on the floor. Half the class converged on him, laughing and talking.

'That's twisted, that is!' Shaznay had ignored Audrey's order to return to her seat and was examining the photos, disgust plain on her face. 'Hey, did you do this?' She waggled a photo under Darren's nose.

'Shaznay, give me that,' Audrey insisted, coming to twitch the photograph from the girl's fingers. 'Go on, sit down, or you'll end up in detention.'

'But miss, just look! Look what someone's done, that's bang out of order!'

'_Shaznay_!'

The girl took the hint and Audrey shook her head as she moved to pin the photo of Kacey Barry back to the board, idly flipping it around before she did so.

She went cold as her eyes fell on the vitriolic lines scrawled across the back in anonymous blue biro, listing epithet after epithet, vicious underlinings under several. She whirled on Darren.

'Did you do this?'

'What?' He gawped at her.

Audrey slammed the photo on his desk with such force that the table rattled. The class fell abruptly silent. 'Was this you?'

'Me?'

'You're the only one who's had the chance.' A half-heard conversation from the staffroom one morning drifted back to her. 'It's no secret that you've been in trouble before for name-calling.'

Darren craned his head, reading. 'Oooh. No, miss, it weren't me.' He tilted his head again. 'Dead right, though, ain't they? She _is_ all them things.'

Audrey pointed towards the door. 'Cooler.'

'But, miss, it weren't me!'

'Indeed? Well, you've spent the whole lesson playing with them so you're the most likely candidate _and_ after what you've just said… Cooler, Darren, _now_!'

The mood in the room shifted.

'Miss, he said he didn't do it!' That was Lisa, sounding indignant.

Audrey's lips pinched. 'I put those photographs up myself last lesson. Year 8 weren't anywhere near them, only Darren's been close enough to touch them—apart from when the rest of you swamped him, of course. Strong circumstantial evidence, wouldn't you say?'

'Wait, are you sayin' it was definitely one of us? Even after we've said it wasn't? Miss, that's not fair!'

'It don't matter, Lise, she's not gonna listen,' Darren spat, pulling his bag to his shoulder. 'I'd rather go to the cooler than listen to 'er anyway. And like I said, miss, them words on Kacey's photo? Dead to rights, they was. She's a freak, a ladyboy, a weirdo, a pervo—'

Audrey came up behind him, edging him out of the classroom. He walked backwards willingly, removing the need to touch him. She was relieved; she could hardly even bear to look at him.

'I think you've convicted yourself without anything more from me. Get to the cooler and wait until you're called. Mr Lowsley and Mrs Mulgrew will be informed too.'

'Huh.' The lines of Darren's face dropped, making him look older and … _sinister_, Audrey thought with a shiver. 'Dead scary that, miss. _Not_.'

He sauntered down the corridor and she stood, not daring to move until she saw the cooler door close behind him. Only then did she take a deep breath and turn to face the rest of the class.

They were standing right behind her _en masse_, coats donned, bags shouldered and expressions grim.

Audrey swallowed hard, unable to believe she could be so unnerved by a gang of fourteen and fifteen year olds. 'Please. Sit down. The lesson's not over yet.'

'No chance.' Shaznay had elbowed her way to the front. 'You send one of us to the cooler like that, you send us all. C'mon, you lot.' She tossed her head and brushed past Audrey, followed by the rest of the class.

'You can't just… walk out!' Audrey called after them.

Shaznay glanced back at her over her shoulder. 'Oh yeah? Just watch us!'

They allowed the door to slam behind them with such force that the vibrations of it rattled through the floorboards to Audrey's feet, and she sank into her chair, shuddering as she caught sight of Kacey's grave photographic face. Her lips set. Darren Hughes had gone too far this time in targeting Kacey, and she wasn't going to let him get away with it. Kacey was in her form, her responsibility—if she needed protecting from bullies, Audrey'd make damn sure that protection was what she got!

* * *

_TBC ASAP!_

_Next time: Audrey and Christine lock horns over Kacey, Tom broods, and Connor puts his foot in it. _


	25. Episode 6-4

_What can I say? I'm really, honestly sorry about the way the posting for this has gone off-track. The plan was that I'd go on holiday and come back to a house that was more or less ready to move into–thus allowing an almost immediate return to my usual routine—but that hasn't happened. We came back to what was practically a building site, so the past couple of weeks have been crazy. However, the end really is in sight now so hopefully normal service will resume by mid-November if not before. In the meantime I'll post when I can, but don't worry if there's a delay. This has not been abandoned, it's planned all the way through to the last chapter!_

_In the meantime of course, WR's back. What do you think? Looking forward to seeing the Sue/Hector/Simon thing pan out—and its implications for Christine, bemused as to what George is playing at (don't believe for a minute he's actually gone, Angus is in the last cast shoot photo) and absolutely detesting the abominable Vaughan. If ever there was a time for Christine to get manipulative…!_

_And reviews…_

_**Sophie**__: Well timed! Here you go, enjoy. _

_**Lori**__: Thanks for the support and gentle reminders to keep going! _

_**Loveistheprotection**__: I'm so flattered Tom/Christine has become your OTP! They're sorta mine too although the more I think about George/Christine… although I couldn't imagine writing a story like this for them. _

_**Paisley**__: More on Darren and Co. coming up. What did you think of Darren's new storylines in 9c/10a?_

_**chantelucy**__: *g* Big Kacey storyline coming up soon! _

* * *

**Mrs Mulgrew's room, 1.45pm**

* * *

The sound of the bell ringing for the beginning of afternoon school jolted Christine out of the fog of her lunch hour, the fog she'd been in since Tom turned his back on her smile and wave through the glass of her classroom window. It had been a struggle to finish the lesson calmly when her tummy was performing wild somersaults and her skin turning distractingly hot and cold. Fortunately she'd been free the last lesson before lunch and had tried to seek Tom then, but he'd been teaching. The impact of the loss of the headship had hit her with the force of a proverbial ton of bricks when it was her turn to stand and watch him through a window; without the authority of the Head behind her she couldn't simply walk in and interrupt the lesson. Besides, she hadn't dared; not with the suspicion that Sue had let something slip after all.

Only when lunch had well and truly started did she attempt to contact him in earnest, but her efforts were wasted. He'd managed to be everywhere she was not, on his way out just as she arrived… they'd passed each other in the staffroom door with little more than a mumble from Tom, and Christine could not bear to stay. Not in the face of Maggie's openly concerned gaze and Sue's slightly less open gloat. She'd muttered some excuse about marking and returned blindly to her classroom…

And now somehow registration was over and she'd failed in her responsibilities as a form tutor, she realised with a guilty start. Where were the kids? Her lips tightened as she pushed herself to her feet and started the routine of dispensing copies of _Romeo and Juliet_. They'd better show for their English lesson or she'd make their lives hell; it wasn't as if they were so ahead of themselves that they could afford to lose any time, not with deadlines looming for coursework drafts.

The books handed out, she stood alone in the middle of her classroom and stared fixedly at the door, willing her missing form to appear. The clock was loud in the corner, so loud it made her nerves jumpy and she closed her eyes against a wave of profound longing for the comforting oblivion granted by vodka. Her fingers began to drum an old rhythm on one of the desks. It didn't help.

And still there was no sign of 10M.

A glance at the clock confirmed they were more than five minutes late for English, and frustrated anger surged through Christine, warming her blood and lending her the energy to sweep between the desks and through the door, turning left at the stairs with some idea of going to Sonya. A reflexive glance through the cooler window as she passed made her jolt to a stop, a tiny muscle jumping in her jaw as she entered.

'So,' she began, starting a mental roll as her gaze swept across row after row of her absent form, 'would anyone like to tell me what I'm missing? Besides yourselves, of course?'

They straightened, their expressions tightening into injured innocence.

'Well?' she prodded when there was no response. 'There better be a reason for this!'

'Didn't McFall tell you?' Lisa volunteered.

Christine skewered her with a glare. '_Miss_ McFall. No.' All at once she was unsure; Audrey _had_ tried to speak with her in the corridor during her frantic flight back to her classroom, she remembered, but she'd assumed it was Audrey being Audrey and brushed her off…

She dropped into the teacher's chair with a suppressed groan and folded her arms. 'Enlighten me, Lisa. What happened with Miss McFall?'

'It wasn't us, it were her!' Shaznay shouted indignantly. 'Some—some _skank_ wrote stuff on Kacey Barry's photo, dead wrong stuff, and McFall said it was us!'

'Yeah, even when we said it wasn't!' Lisa added. 'Darren's a perv, but 'e's an _honest_ perv, like!'

Christine's eyebrows shot up. 'Right. Darren, _again_. What do you have to say?'

The boy glowered beaneath sullenly heavy lids. 'It weren't me. I were honest, miss, I told McFall that I agreed with them things on Kacey's photo, but it weren't me.'

Christine deliberately brushed her hair behind her ears and blew out an exasperated sigh. 'Fine. Let's take a step back, shall we? _Why_ was Miss McFall so sure you were responsible, Mr Hughes?'

''Cos 'e's got a bad rep with the teachers, innit.' Shaznay again. 'That's dead wrong, miss. That ain't fair.'

'Darren?' Christine prompted, her tone sharpening. 'Did you have the opportunity to deface Kacey's photo?'

The sullen look grew heavier. 'S'pose so. Was at the back, weren't I? An' I was bored, McFall's dead borin' most of the time. I was leanin' against the wall and me fingers were fidgetin' with whatever were there. You know what I'm like, miss!' His tone was aggrieved and Christine couldn't help but nod; she _did_ know what he was like, the boy was an inveterate fidgeter who was utterly incapable of sitting still.

A characteristic she knew Audrey couldn't stand. The knowledge caused a rush of sympathy; it was all too easy for kids like Darren to take the rap for crimes they hadn't committed.

'OK,' she sighed. 'And you _swear_ you had nothing to with it? That you're telling the truth now?' Her gaze bored into Darren's and she held it, knowing that if he was lying he'd be the first to look away. As Lisa had said, he was usually honest—if pushed enough.

'I promise.' Darren shifted, his lip curling. 'Wouldn't waste me tine on that freak anyway.'

'That's enough,' Christine chided, pushing her chair back. 'If that's what you said, no wonder Miss McFall's convinced you're guilty! Not doing yourself any favours there, eh?' Darren grumbled something incomprehensible and his form teacher shook her head. 'And if I hear you use that word about _anyone_ again—'

'Oh, you found them,' Audrey said, and Christine turned to see the History teacher shepherd a plainly reluctant Kacey into the room. 'I hope Darren's ready to apologise.'

Christine shot the other teacher an unfriendly look, all too aware of how her form had stiffened at the older woman's entry. 'With all due respect, I don't think this is the time or place.'

Now it was Audrey who stiffened visibly, her thin shoulders turning rigid as she lifted her chin. 'Not the time or place? Forgive me, Mrs Mulgrew, but I think this is _exactly_ the time and place. Kacey here has been grossly—_grossly_!—insulted for all the world to see. At the very least she's owed a public apology!'

'My form insist they're innocent,' Christine said gently, hoping to defuse the situation. 'And I believe them.'

Audrey gaped. 'What?' She gathered herself. 'That's absurd, clearly you haven't heard the full story—'

Christine's patience snapped. She was exhausted, her head was pounding, she was anxious beyond belief, the man she loved was sitting somewhere in this very building thinking… well, she hated to contemplate what he was thinking… and she absolutely positively did not need _this_. She thumped her palms on the desk and pushed herself to her feet. 'I _said_, I believe them.'

'But—but—'

Christine circled the desk to face her friend. 'Shall we take this outside, _Miss_ McFall?' She spoke as if she was still Head, emphasising the other woman's title. Perhaps it'd jerk her to her senses, she thought grimly.

'Just drop it, will yous?' Kacey burst out. 'I tried to tell yer, miss, I don't want a fuss!'

'Now, Kacey dear—'

Kacey shook herself free of Audrey's hand as the bell rang for the start of the last lesson of the day. 'You never listen, do yer? It don't matter who did it, I don't need no apology 'cos they're right! I'm everything they called me, yous don't need to make it worse by rubbin' it in, so just… leave us alone!' She cast a haunted look around the room. 'It's all I want. Ain't much to ask, is it?'

She spun out of the room heedless of the door slamming behind her, and Christine and Audrey stared after her, too stunned to react.

'See, she's lost it, miss,' Shaznay said into the hush. 'Needs to be locked up, she does.'

Christine whirled on her. 'Detention for you for the rest of the week!'

'But _miiiss_—'

'_And_ the rest of you, if you don't get out of my sight—right—now!'

They didn't need to be told twice, filing past Christine and Audrey in an offended silence that might have amused their form teacher at any other time. Not now, however, not when she felt as if she was hanging on to the whole personal-professional situation by the very tips of her fingernails.

'Christine, what—' Audrey tried as soon as they were alone, but Christine cut her off with an abrupt gesture.

'There isn't time for this,' she said harshly. 'You've done it again. Are you ever gonna learn?'

The older woman reared back, her face slack from shock. 'But—'

Guilt stabbed through Christine. It wasn't all Audrey's fault; it wasn't fair to take it out on her. She moistened her lips, trying to summon a placating smile.

'Just… just get to your class. I'll, I'll sort out Kacey.'

'Christine, it's not your job any more.'

It was gently said, but Christine closed her eyes against the truth of it, the corners of her mouth twitching.

'It doesn't matter what it says on that sign on the door,' she admitted at last. 'It doesn't matter what I tell myself. Head or not, the kids, this school, they're still mine. Inside, where it counts. So go to your class, Audrey. One way or another, I'll sort Kacey.'

_And I think I know where she's gone_, Christine thought bleakly as Audrey departed. _To Dynasty… who's with Tom_.

* * *

**Mr Clarkson's room, 2.30pm**

* * *

'Less chat and more work,' Tom ordered curtly, briefly lifting his eyes. The coil inside tightened when he saw Imogen and Connor exchange a look. 'A problem with that, Mr and Mrs Mulgrew?'

Imogen refused to meet his gaze, her dark head bending forward over her work. Connor, however, studied Tom with a care the older man decided he did not like.

'You got something for me?' he barked. 'You should, you're running out of extensions.'

'No, sir,' Connor said quietly, pale skin reddening as followed his wife's example—but not before shooting another of those glances. Tom clenched his jaw so tightly the muscles ached.

Did Connor know, was that it? Had Christine told him first?

His mouth opened, angry accusations ready to spill forth, when Christine herself appeared at the door.

'Mrs Mulgrew,' Tom said between his teeth. 'How may I help?'

'I'm looking for Kacey Barry,' she said with the same careful formality he'd used.

'This is a Year 12 class.' Tom couldn't keep the edge out of his voice. 'I appreciate you're... distracted... at the moment but unless she's suddenly jumped a year without my knowledge—'

It felt good to say it, to lay undue emphasis on the last three words. There were too many secrets, weren't there?

She flinched, one hand reaching to brush a stray lock behind her ear. Even from several metres away he could see how it trembled. 'She hasn't come looking for Dynasty—?'

He gestured towards the young woman in question. 'Do you see her there? Unless of course Dynasty's hiding her… without my knowledge.'

The atmosphere in the class shifted; Tom knew that they'd sensed the subtext and wondered at it. Connor's gaze narrowed and his lips tightened in a manner that enhanced his resemblance to his mother. As for Dynasty, she'd twisted to look at Christine.

'Miss? What's this about our Kace?'

Christine shifted. 'There was an—incident—in Miss McFall's class this morning.'

Dynasty's brow furrowed. 'But Kace doesn't do History.'

Christine moistened her lips. 'No, but she is in Miss McFall's tutor group—'

'What 'appened?'

'We'll tell you later,' Christine said hurriedly, glancing towards Tom. He looked away. 'She's… upset, but we'll look after her, don't worry.'

'Yes, I'm sure Mrs Mulgrew has the situation under control,' Tom snapped, ignoring how Dynasty's eyes widened. 'Mrs Mulgrew, if that's all—?'

'Of course.' Christine's response tumbled out. 'I'm sorry for interrupting, Mr Clarkson.' A pause, followed by a second, much softer, 'I'm sorry,'—and she was gone, leaving Tom feeling like a helpless fly caught in a web… uncertain whether the spider was Christine or the tangled weight of his own emotions.

'What'd you have to talk to her like that for?' Connor exploded. 'Couldn't you see she's not well?'

The question was like spark to tinder for Tom, sending professionalism and common sense out the window.

'Yeah, and we know the reason for that, don't we? Food poisoning, _hah_!'

'What's got into yer, sir?' Dynasty demanded. 'What's goin' on?'

'Never you mind.' He was curt once again. 'This is _personal_.' He didn't add _and its none of your business_, but he could see from Dynasty's sniff and tossed head that she'd heard it in his tone. At least it kept her quiet.

No such luck with Christine's daughter-in-law, who leaned forward from her place in the front row where her desk adjoined his to say 'Hey, get a grip. This is a lesson, remember?'

Tom's eyes narrowed. 'Yeah, easy for you to say. You haven't been lied to, I'll bet—'

'Mum hasn't lied, she just… she just probably hasn't told you everything and I don't blame her, the way you're behaving!' Connor interrupted. He was his feet, his stance combative, and Tom found himself instinctively mirroring his position.

'So it's true?' he barked. 'She's pregnant and you know all about it—which means that Imogen and Dynasty and Kevin probably know as well. None of you think of tellin' me? You know, the dad? Or were you just gonna wait until it's born?'

The entire class gave a concerted gasp that was almost a squeak and the sound returned Tom to himself, his horrified gaze taking in the looks of dawning glee on most of the students' faces—and Connor's rigid jaw.

'Actually, I don't know any more than you do,' the younger man spat. 'Not for certain, we just put a few clues together 'cos you _were_ tryin', weren't you, or was it just more mind games? Hasn't my mum been through enough without that?'

Tom swallowed hard, confusion and embarrassment curdling his brain. 'I—'

'I don't wanna know!' Connor turned to his wife. 'Come on, Im. I can't stick bein' in this room a second longer.'

'Shit.' Tom subsided into his chair as part of his towering rage fragmented into ashes. This was turning into a nightmare. 'Connor, Imogen—'

'Let 'em go, sir,' Dynasty advised, getting to her feet. Before Tom could protest, she added: 'And the rest of yous, get. Clear off, go to the library or sommat. 'S'only quarter of an hour before the bell anyroad.'

A single dissenting voice rose above the resulting rustles and bangs.

'Mr Clarkson?' Tom struggled to focus on the speaker, a blond girl. 'Mr Clarkson, do we have to do what she says?'

He blinked and memory returned. The questioner was Louisa Fox. Naturally. He managed a nod.

'Yeah… she's Head Girl, she's in charge. Go. Just… _go_!' The last word was practically bellowed and Year 12 almost fell over themselves in their hurry to leave the room.

It was a relief to be alone. He clasped his head in his hands and tried to get his thoughts and feelings into some sort of order when a soft Scouse voice said, 'Tom?'

'I thought you'd gone,' he said gruffly, not looking up. 'What're you doin' here anyway, I suppose you're on _her_ side.'

'I am,' Dynasty said quietly. 'An' yours too, sir. Don't be too hasty, eh? I don't know what's goin' on, but I know this for a fact. Christine loves you. Do you love 'er?'

His throat closed and he couldn't answer.

'Talk to 'er, eh? Don't go jumpin' to conclusions. Whatever's happened, I know it hasn't been done to hurt you. Like I said, Christine loves you.'

He had to get rid of her. He faked a semblance of his usual smile. 'Thanks for the pep talk, Dyn. I'll be fine now.'

'Sure you will!' she said with a smart nod and quick, characteristic pat on the arm. 'I'll see you later.'

He stared blindly after her.

_She says Christine loves me_, he thought. Before today, the certainty of that statement would have filled him with joy. Just now, it lay like a heavy, smothering blanket. _But does she really? Is she just trying to hold on, no matter what? Or does she love me enough to let me go if I can't do this again?_

* * *

**Mrs Mulgrew's room, 3.15pm**

* * *

Christine did not wait for the bell to stop pealing before slipping past a startled Year 9 with little more than a murmured dismissal; she hadn't even set their homework. Her breathing came in short gasps as she hurried down the stairs, grasping the rail tightly. She didn't want fear to turn into dizziness and result in another fall down the stairs—and refused to listen to the bitter voice in her head that told her that perhaps falling down the stairs was the best thing she could do, under the circumstances.

Tom exited his classroom just as she reached the junction that linked their corridors and she tried to speak, but her her words died when he caught sight of her and twisted on his heel to march in the opposite direction. Connor, Imogen and Dynasty clustered around her.

'Is it true?' That was Dynasty. 'You're pregnant?'

Christine closed her eyes and leaned against the wall, willing the world to stop spinning. 'How—'

'You are, aren't you,' Connor said, and she bit into her lip and nodded slowly. 'Imogen was right, it hasn't been food poisoning at all!'

Her eyes flew open at that and she reached to grab her son's arm. 'It was, I swear. It was just…it was—'

'Morning sickness as well, eh?' Imogen offered. Christine's gaze switched to her daughter-in-law and something tightly coiled within her relaxed as she met the younger woman's eyes. There was no judgement there, only understanding.

Her throat uncomfortably tight, she managed a jerky nod.

'Tom's ragin',' Dynasty told her softly. ''E thinks you've told Connor before him.'

'I'm sorry, Mum.' The guilt in her son's voice made Christine feel ill; she didn't want this to be another burden on Connor's shoulders. 'I put my foot in it and then… he totally lost it and me and Imogen walked out.'

'An' so did everyone else,' the Head Girl put in smartly. 'I sent them out 'cos Tom was beside 'imself, it not good for the others to see 'im like that, they'd only gossip. Nothin' to do with them, is it?'

'I'm goin' to find him,' Connor announced, his jaw very square, and once again Christine felt a pang. Her little boy had indeed grown up. 'It was my fault for opening my stupid gob in the first place, he's no right to be pissed at you—'

'No!' She grabbed at him. 'No, son. I…' She sighed. 'Imagine if it was you and Imogen … It has to be me.'

'I'm still coming with you,' he said, taking her arm. She didn't protest further; in all honesty she was grateful for the support. The stupid easy tears (had she been as weepy as this with Connor? She couldn't remember) rushed to her eyes when the girls nodded and said they were coming too, the sets of their jaws daring her to argue.

She did not argue. She was too tired, too afraid, too heartsick to even try.

'Fine.' Still grasping tightly to Connor's arm, she lead them towards Tom's office, halting when they were some metres alway. She took a deep breath. 'Stay here.'

Connor surprised her by pulling her into a tight hug. 'It'll be fine, Mum. No matter what. You and me and Imogen, we're family, right?'

'And me,' Dynasty added firmly. 'I swear, Christine, you saved me life last term.' Her voice broke. 'I love you to bits, I do, anythin' I can do—'

Christine's breath caught in a sob as she pulled both girls into her embrace along with Connor, her eyes closing once again as she tried to absorb the love and strength they offered. The rapid beat of her pulse in her ears told her that time was passing and she couldn't leave Tom to brood any longer. She stiffened her shoulders and stood back, one hand swiftly disposing of the tell-tale tears.

'Wish me luck,' she whispered before pivoting on her heel and marching to Tom's door with her head held high.

She did not knock. No point in giving him an easy way out, she thought grimly as she opened the door and pushed it shut behind her.

He twisted from the window to look at her.

'What d'you want?'

Christine had to steel herself against the harshness of his tone and force herself to speak gently instead of responding in kind. 'I… just want to talk to you.'

'Can't it wait? I'm a bit busy—'

She managed to summon a smile. 'Sure. At home, then? Later?'

His eyes were hard, their blue lacking warmth. '_Your_ home?'

'And yours,' she managed, her mouth going dry. 'Isn't it?'

'I dunno. Not sure about much, right now.' A pause, during which she could see the erratic bobbing of his adam's apple. 'Is it true?'

Christine's mouth opened and closed again as realisation blossomed, obliterating the weeks of agony and doubt. For her, this child was welcome and wanted, a child created of love. Her past was simply that, her past, and there was no reason for it to throw its long shadow over this new present… and in truth part of her was secretly thrilled that she'd been able to defy the odds and conceive so quickly. After all, it wasn't _her_ fault Tom had changed his mind. When it came down to brass tacks her conscience was clear.

But for him… for him, this was a pain point. She had to find a way to soothe that pain as he'd soothed so many of hers.

In the end she decided blunt honesty was the best policy.

'My last period was in December, just before we got together. Then… it all changed so quickly, Tom. You wanted a kid and then you didn't and—and I missed a period and I wasn't sure because I've had false alarms before—'

'You lied about being on the pill,' he accused coldly. 'Why'd you let me think you were on it if you weren't? When you _know_—'

Christine blew out a breath, determined to stay calm.

'I know, I know! I was stupid, I should have said that I was starting to wonder, but I couldn't believe it, you know? I couldn't believe I could be pregnant so quickly and then I was scared but… You're right. You're absolutely right, it was my fault. I was stupid, I should've talked to you, I'm so sorry.'

Their gazes locked. Christine ticked the passing seconds by the beat of her heart.

Finally, Tom spoke.

'December, you say?' He sounded a shade less frosty.

She nodded.

'Nearly two months, eh? Officially, that is?'

Christine blinked. That hadn't occurred to her, but he was right. If her last period had been mid-December and they were now in February—She gave a shrug of agreement.

He laughed, alarming her. Was that a good thing?

'Tom?'

Now he was grinning. 'Didn't hang about, did we?'

'Well … we weren't always careful, Imogen was right.' They exchanged careful, ruefully amused smiles. It gave her the confidence to add in a rush, 'And I wasn't on the pill. I never was, I didn't lie about it, if you'd asked instead of just _assuming_—'

'Hey, I've always been an ass,' he interrupted in the old way and all at once she was laughing and then she was crying, reaction setting in after weeks of anxiety. 'And so are you, keepin' mum all this time—pun not intended.'

He caught her in a hug as he ended and she clung to him.

'I'm sorry,' she whispered into his shoulder, 'I'm sorry if you thought—'

'Never mind what I thought,' he cut in. He sounded nearly as rough as she did. His hands moved to her shoulders and pushed her away, just enough. 'Just promise. No more secrets?'

'No more secrets,' she agreed. She'd have agreed to almost anything to be free of fear, to have him safely beside her.

At the time, she meant every word.

* * *

**TBC... but please be patient!**

**Next time: The Mulgrews (and Tom) adjust to Christine's pregnancy while gossip runs wild through the school. **


	26. Episode 7-1

_**Don't know about anyone else, but I'm starting to get frustrated with the show this season. The storylines seem… a bit loose. Even the famous love triangle is taking its time to kick off (we're nearly half way through, after all) and not appreciating the general lack of proper storylines for Christine. Then again, I do quite like the 'silent watcher' element we're seeing from her and wondering whether anything'll come of it. Or maybe it's just that I've been rewatching Series 3 &amp; 4 and while I personally believe 8 and even 9 can stand against those, 10 so far really … can't.**_

_**Reviews:**_

_**Guest**: Yeah, I'm hoping something romantic happens for Christine before the show ends! As for Kacey, resolution of sorts coming there very soon._

_**Millie**: Thanks! I don't think they're very consistent with Sue. She's been the bitch-from-hell and then last week… we see a nicer, more conscientious side of her. Professionally, at least!_

_**Sophie**: Here you go! Hoping to update more quickly next time._

_**Lottie**: Have to agree, Vaughn does seem to be respectful of Christine—but he's still …eww. Smarmy._

_**Paisley**: Aw, thanks. I'm trying to return to some sort of reliable schedule but as luck will have it, I'll hit my stride and then we'll be into Christmas/New Year and associated disruption then. At least if the predicted Big Freeze happens in the New Year I may not be able to get into work… thus, more writing time which'd allow me to actually finish this!_

_**Lori**: I didn't mind being nagged, it was more the worry that people were thinking I'd abandoned this._

_**Please do keep 'em coming! :) OX**_

* * *

**Mulgrew Household, 7.00am**

* * *

'Dynasty says it's gone viral,' Imogen announced as she sat at the breakfast table. Christine winced; no need to ask what "it" was. 'She says—'

'Don't tell us, we don't wanna know,' Connor interrupted, and Christine gave an emphatic nod of agreement.

Imogen rested her chin on her hands. 'Well, what are you going to do? Ignore it?'

'Why not?' Tom countered. 'Let it blow over, they'll find something else to gossip about in no time. Like, isn't Kevin coming back today?'

Connor frowned. 'Isn't it too soon? We saw him two days ago and—and well, he's not himself.' He shifted awkwardly. 'He was, he was stuttering and stammering, sometimes we couldn't understand what he was on about.'

'You'll have to be patient with him,' Christine told him, torn between compassion for her son's best friend and unwilling gratitude that the boy's return would, as Tom had said, deflect attention from herself. 'You two and Dynasty, how the three of you respond will set the tone for the others.' She glanced at Connor. 'Sorry, son, but that means you'll have to continue as Head Boy until Kevin's fit—'

'Simon says Jack should do it,' Tom put in. 'Says it's time Jack took responsibility for more than the boys' footy team and I think he's got a point. Jack's had an easy ride this term so far and he shouldn't have.'

Imogen grimaced. 'You won't let Mr Lowsley force Jack into it? He's crap and Dynasty'd kill him and then she'd get into _more_ trouble and I'd be actin' Head Girl again. Please, Tom?' She clasped her hands, her eyes going childishly round. 'I'm begging you, I need all my time for my work, I haven't got any left over for extras.'

'And what about me?' Connor demanded. 'I need the time more than you!'

'Yeah, but you're doing your cookery,' Imogen argued. 'You don't need A'levels for that—'

'Says who?'

'I looked it up, all you need is GCSEs and you've got them. You could start a cookery course tomorrow if you wanted—'

'Which he's not,' Christine told them firmly. 'He's gonna finish his exams first. Oh, yes you are,' she added when Connor seemed poised to turn on her. 'I want you to have options, son,' she went on more gently. 'Do your exams, get the best grades you can, and if the catering doesn't work out… well, you'll have something to fall back on.'

Connor's expression grew very black and Christine reached across to put her hand on his arm.

'Please,' she whispered, hating herself for asking but unable to refrain. 'If you're serious about catering you'd have to go away and—and I don't want you to go. Not yet.' _Not until the baby's born_, she thought. _Not until I know whether we can all get through this in one piece_.

Her son blew out a sigh. 'I know, I get it, Mum.' He met her eyes. 'Don't worry, I'm not goin' anywhere—not until September at least,' he went on, his gaze flicking to her abdomen and back. 'Gotta hang around to meet the kid, don't I?'

'Which brings us back to where we started,' Imogen insisted. 'You and Tom are trendin' in school gossip, Christine. What're you gonna do? Are you going to announce it?'

'I—' Christine's voice failed her and she looked at Tom.

His smile was comforting. 'The kids'll get over it quick enough, if you can handle the stares and impertinent questions—'

She rolled her eyes. 'All in a day's work. But?'

'_But_… I think we should tell the staff. They'll have heard the rumours and Simon at least'll have to know officially so we can table your maternity leave and start thinking about cover.'

Christine shrank back against her chair. 'It's far too soon for that!'

'He'll know anyway,' Tom reminded her. 'Didn't you say Sue knows?' She swallowed, giving a reluctant nod. 'And God knows she'll be only too keen to gossip, she's a leaky cistern for sure.' His jaw squared. 'I don't know about you but I'd rather we were at the forefront of any talk instead of tryin' to catch up.'

Christine groaned and planted her elbows on the table, her fingertips reaching for the pressure points at her temples. She blew out a sigh. 'Yeah. Yeah, you're right.' Another thought occurred. 'Oh, God, Audrey. She'll be mortally offended I haven't told her first and if Sue starts in—'

'I'll have a word with Maggie,' Tom promised. 'They've become good friends since Audrey joined Grantly House. I think we can trust Maggie to keep Audrey off your back.'

'And what about that Spark cow?' Imogen demanded. 'Will _she_ keep off your case?'

Christine chuckled, surprising herself as much as she surprised her daughter-in-law, judging by the raised eyebrows. 'Don't you worry about Miss Sue Spark. I think I can handle her, she's not as squeaky clean as she likes to make out.'

She was startled by Connor's answering smirk, his eyes turning opaque. 'Nah, you're right there. There's some skeletons in their closets and if Spark or her niece start stirrin'—' He shrugged, meeting Christine's eyes across the table. 'Don't worry, Mum. I'll sort it, you just look after yourself.' He pushed his chair back from the table, gulping down his last bites of toast. 'Coming, Im?'

She nodded and followed him from the room, and Christine turned to Tom, uneasiness welling within her.

'What was that about?'

Tom was frowning. 'God knows.'

'I don't want Connor to get himself in trouble for me,' she insisted.

Tom drained his cup and replaced it, his expression grave. 'I don't think there's much you can do to stop it, love. He's in full-on protective mode and… I don't blame him, frankly.'

Christine chewed on her lip. 'Let's hope Kevin's return is the distraction he needs, eh?'

* * *

**Spark-Bain Household, 7.30am**

* * *

Louisa beamed at her family as she entered the large dining room and headed for the sideboard with its collection of breakfast comestibles.

'Isn't it a gorgeous morning? I love it when it's like this, clean and sparkly!' No-one answered but Louisa was not deterred; she took her plate of food and went to sit in her usual place, beside her grandfather and opposite a silent Sue and Simon. 'Oh, come on, everyone, cheer up!'

Sue scowled and Louisa's Gramps said, 'Nice to see you so full of beans, love. Something going on you haven't told us?'

'I'm just happy,' Louisa responded. 'Aren't I allowed to be happy? It's practically spring, the sun's shining … and Kevin's back! I heard Connor and Imogen talking about it last week. I can't wait, I've really missed him. He's my best friend at Waterloo Road.'

'_Friend_?' Simon echoed while Sue sniffed.

'I can't imagine what you see in him, Lulu. I know he's supposed to be the school genius but he's so skinny and nerdy and … _eurgh_.' She shuddered. 'When I was your age I preferred a guy with some… heft to him. _And_ he's surgically attached to the Mulgrews and that Barry girl.'

'Not any more,' Louisa reminded her aunt triumphantly. '_He_ dumped _her_.'

'That was before he got ill,' Simon said, his gaze rather too penetrating for Louisa's liking. 'I happen to know Dynasty's spent every moment she could at his bedside. Daniel Chalk even got her listed as Kevin's next-of-kin so there wouldn't be any argument from the ward powers-that-be. D'you think he'd have done that if they'd really split?'

Louisa dismissed that with a wave. 'Mr Chalk doesn't know me, does he? He's been talking to Mrs Mulgrew and I bet she told him lies about Kevin and Dynasty. Everyone knows that Mrs Mulgrew thinks the sun shines out of Dynasty's big backside.'

'Don't be vulgar, darling,' her grandfather snapped.

'She's right, though,' Sue said, and Louisa glared across the table at the older woman. For a moment she was tempted to take it back; she hated to resemble Sue in anything. 'Christine makes a ridiculous fuss over Dynasty.' She smirked. 'Perhaps she's always wanted a daughter. If this famous baby is a girl I bet Connor and Dynasty will find their noses knocked out of joint.'

'Sue,' Simon warned.

'What? I'm only saying—'

'You're gossiping,' Simon told her coldly. Sue's features froze. 'Until I've been informed otherwise there _is_ no baby, right? Even if there is it's none of your business!'

'They _make_ it my business,' Sue fired back. '"Waterloo Road" that's a laugh, the school should be called Mulgrew Road the way everyone gets on!'

Simon slammed his knife on the table and the impact made everyone jump. Louisa saw her grandfather's pained expression, but he'd never say anything, not to Simon. He was always saying Simon was the son he'd never had.

'I'm getting thoroughly tired of your … _bitching_… about the Mulgrews! If it wasn't for Christine you wouldn't even have a job, have you thought of that?'

'You and Daddy got me that job!'

'Yeah, and every day I regret it a little bit more! I don't know what was going through my head, I must've been crazy—'

'You wanted to get that drunk out!'

Simon scoffed before saying deliberately, 'You know what, the way you're carrying on … I'd rather have Christine Mulgrew, drunk, over you sober… any day.' A beat. 'In the classroom—or out of it.'

Louisa sat frozen. Simon was no longer shouting, in fact he was nearly whispering. There was no doubt he meant every word he said and Sue bleached.

'Simon—' Her voice hitched. She tried a laugh. 'Please, Twinkle—'

Simon did not relax. 'Just lay off Christine. I mean it, Sue. Especially if these rumours are true, the last thing that woman needs is your constant carping. So she's got a past. So do you. Or have you forgotten where we met?'

'Simon!' Gramps hissed. 'For God's sake—' The glance he sent Louisa was so swift that she nearly missed it.

She went cold inside, her fingers tingling. She'd always known there was a secret at the heart of her family, a secret relating to her mother's disappearance when Louisa and her twin were little more than toddlers. As children, she and Emily had speculated and whispered, but they'd both been sent off to their respective boarding schools at the age of eleven and all thoughts of the secret had largely fled, almost subsumed by the routines of school life. _Almost_.

'Gramps?' she prompted now. Her grandfather refused to meet her eyes; even Simon had subsided. 'What's going on?'

'I need to go,' Sue muttered and hurried out. Louisa could hear her strangled sobs as she went, and the apprehensive knot of certainty tightened. It wasn't like Auntie Sue to try and control her emotions.

'Gramps?'

'Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about, sweetheart,' her grandfather told her with a clown-like smile that confirmed her suspicions that all this was connected to her, somehow. He glanced at Simon. 'You'd better get on, haven't you, or your headteacher will have something to say!'

There was an awkward pause before Simon said, 'He's right, Louisa. Go and finish getting ready, I want to leave in five minutes.'

Her throat ached but she managed, 'Suit yourself. I—I think I'd rather make my own way in,' and brushed past, her head dropped to hide her own struggle for control.

You'd have thought she'd be used to the lies by now.

* * *

**Barry Household, 8.15am**

* * *

'Hurry up, Munch, you're ditherin',' Dynasty complained, half-rising from her seat to peer out the window. 'Kev's gonna be here any minute, I wanna be ready to go! He's gonna be worked up enough as it is!'

'I'm done,' Kacey protested, her spoon clattering into her barely-touched bowl. 'Wasn't hungry anyhow, I hate eatin' first thing.'

Dynasty paused in the act of moving her own dishes to the kitchen. 'Eh? But you always loved your brekker when we were kids. Remember you and Barry squabblin' over who got the runny egg?'

There was a long and painfully awkward pause before Kacey said, 'I'm not a kid anymore, Dyn. An' stop callin' us Munch, it's a stupid name and it makes it sound like yous think I do nothin' but eat.'

Dynasty forced a laugh.

'Don't be daft, It's got nothin' to do with food, you're our wee munchkin.' But she wasn't really paying attention; she was too focused on the window. She stood on tiptoes to try to peer down the street in the direction she expected Kevin's taxi to come. 'Aw, come _on_, Kev!'

'Don't bother waitin' on me,' she heard Kacey say. 'I'd just be in the way, you'll be happier by yourselves.'

She whirled, reaching out to grab her sister by the shoulders. 'Hey, Kev'll be made up to see yer, he's dead worried about comin' back, he needs all the friendly faces around him he can get!'

Kacey shrugged and Dynasty frowned. This apathy towards Kevin was uncharacteristic; it was not so many weeks since Kacey had been furious with Dynasty herself for breaking off with Kevin. She gave the younger girl a slight shake.

'Come on, babes. Talk to me. What's goin' on in that head of yours?' A beat. 'Are you worried about Darren Hughes an' that after last week?'

Kacey's head fell forward, untidy hair obscuring her face and anger boiled within the older girl.

'Are they botherin' you? Just wait til I get me hands on 'im, _and_ Harley and Lula. They're supposed to be watchin' out for you!'

Kacey shook her off. 'I don't need a babysitter, Dyn! I can fight me own battles!'

Dynasty studied her properly for the first time in weeks—months, even—and a barely acknowledged anxiety bubbled to the surface. Kacey did not look as if she could fight her own battles; indeed, Kacey looked as if it took every ounce of energy she had simply to stand upright.

She swallowed hard and spoke gently. 'Come on, kiddo. I know somethin's not right. What's eatin' at you, eh?'

Kacey lifted her chin, her gaze momentarily confrontational. 'You're gettin' dead borin', always naggin' away like you was a granny. I'm worried about me exams like everyone else, and then with all our family crap…' She shrugged again and continued in a voice as gentle as Dynasty's had been. 'Serious, Dyn, don't waste your time worryin' about me. It's _you_ who's been through hell this last year, not me.'

'Yeah, but I'm not the one who's skin and bones, am I?' The words were out before Dynasty had articulated them in her own mind; they seemed to hover in the air between them as an odd expression ghosted across Kacey's face.

Guilt compelled Dynasty to pull her sister into a hug.

'I'm sorry, Kace,' she muttered into the younger girl's hair. 'Forgive me?' But Kacey remained stiff and rigid within her embrace, and Dynasty let her go, confused and hurt. The tooting of a horn was a welcome distraction and she glanced out the window. 'He's here, I have to go. Are yer coming or what?'

Kacey's face was averted. 'I'll make me own way in.'

Exasperation overtook concern and latent fear and Dynasty snapped, 'Please yourself' and hurried past.

It was a relief to get into the minibus and see how Kevin's drawn face brightened at sight of her.

'Hey you,' she greeted, leaning forward to give her boyfriend (he was that again, he just didn't know it yet) a careful kiss on the cheek. 'Ready and rarin' to go?'

Kevin nodded.

She lifted her hand, fingers extended, and waited as he slowly mirrored the gesture, the effort it took showing in the tiny crease that appeared between his brows. When their fingers intertwined Dynasty found herself blinking away tears.

The crease deepened.

'D-don't c-cry,' Kevin managed. 'H-hate… see-seein' you c-cry.'

'I can't help it,' she whispered. 'I'm so happy to have you back.' She sniffled. 'I never said, Kev, I'm dead sorry for how I treated you. I love you, I need you—'

Kevin's hand slid away from hers. 'Like… like _this_?'

She wouldn't let him back off. 'Any way I can get you, babes.'

His mouth twisted. 'I'm… n-not the s-same…'

'I don't care,' she insisted. 'Please, Kev. You was there for me when I needed you, even when I pushed you away—' Her voice broke. 'I'm dead sorry, please don't push me away now—'

'It's… not… the…same.' Kevin paused and closed his eyes, and Dynasty's heart hurt to see her brilliant Kevin have to work so hard to simply speak. 'I'm n-no g-good t-to you … or a-anyone e-else.'

She expelled a shuddering breath and reached out to clasp his hand tightly. For months she'd felt like a helpless weathervane battered by the winds of fate. She'd done the leaning; in a strange way it was almost a relief to have someone who needed to lean on her. It reminded her of her own strength.

'_Bollocks_,' she spat, her tone brooking no argument. 'You better buck your ideas up boyo, 'cos you know what? I need yer. Connor an' your mates need you, I told what's goin' on with Christine. You're still Head Boy, Connor's just givin' you a hand when you need it. This is sink or swim time for you babe, and you're gonna swim no matter what or my name ain't Dynasty Barry!'

Kevin hunched down in his seat and Dynasty sighed, once again torn between concern and exasperation—but she knew there was no point in rushing things, the doctors had explained it would take time. It had been her idea for Kevin to return to school so soon and he'd agreed reluctantly. If it all went wrong it would be her fault.

* * *

**_TBC!_**

**_Next time: The staff react and Year 12 welcome Kevin... or do they?_**


	27. Episode 7-2

_Well, I'm finally liking Series 10. Loved last week's ep (naturally) and this week's had me laughing out loud. Especially and Audrey and Fifty Shades! I've completely got back into this again so hopefully updates will now return to being regular, Christmas/New Year apart!_

_**Reviews**__:_

_**silver7612**__: LOL, thanks. Hope you like this bit as much! _

_**Sophie**__: More Tomstine coming right up! As for George, I'm not convinced he has totally left. He's in the last cast photo—the only 'leaver' to be there—so I'm expecting we'll see him back for the last block. As for Tiffany and Justin, I don't know. They're growing on me! However, if I did, it'd just be them (and maybe Floyd and Leo) but I'd bring them all in as boarders. I can't stand Vaughan. _

_**Lori**__: Series 10 is improving, slowly. I still don't like the new Head but I have a suspicion we'll see Christine as Deputy Head once Simon's left, so all is not lost for her plot-line wise. She's effectively been doing Simon's job anyway, he's a total washout this term! _

_**Paisley**__: Ask and you shall receive… a snippet. This whole episode is very Louisa-centric so you'll know all about it by the time it ends. Kacey's popping up next episode and as for the pregnancy… Wait and see! _

_Re Sue: she acknowledged she was being a hypocrite in tonight's ep. Yay for self-knowledge(!)_

_**April**__: Sue's about to go down a dark road, so hopefully she'll get over the bitchiness! _

_Some Tomstine fluff coming right up! And some not-fluff. _

* * *

**Staff Room, 8.30am**

* * *

'Wait.'

Tom turned to see Christine had come to a halt behind him, just outside the staffroom door. She was nibbling a fingernail.

'I…' She licked her lips. 'I'm not ready to go in.'

He checked they were alone with no approaching interruptions. 'Hey, it'll be fine. What's the worst that can happen? Awkward pauses? Stares? Questions? You've faced all those before.'

Her lips quirked. 'Yeah, but I was Head and could hide.' Her glance strayed further down the corridor to the office that had been hers. 'Or I was nursing a hangover and didn't care, to be honest. But now—'

'You do care,' he said with an affectionate squeeze of her arm.

'I always cared,' she confessed in a rush. 'The alcohol just dulled it. Sometimes.'

'C'm'ere.' He pulled her into a hug. 'You are gonna take a deep breath and just walk in there, be your indomitable self, stare the gossips down.' He drew back to look at her. 'If anyone can do it, it's you.'

'Yeah.' She gave the short nod that meant she was girding herself for something. 'I'm being daft, it's just the Waterloo Road staffroom after all!' They laughed. 'How bad can it be, hmm?'

'That's more like it!'

He took advantage of the fact that they were still alone to initiate a kiss, and Christine made a small noise of approval as the moment lingered…

'Oh, for God's sake!' someone spat behind them and they jumped apart to see George Windsor, looking as if he'd been force-fed with an entire platter of lemons. 'It's too early in the morning for this,' he grumbled as he pushed past. 'I'm not paid enough—'

'Oh, stop your complaining and go and get your coffee,' Christine interrupted and Tom hid a grin as she followed George into the staffroom. That friendship was an odd one on some levels but its characteristic blend of malice and affection had got her moving again. 'In fact, if it'll shut you up I'll even make it!'

The older man pulled a face.

'Darling, please don't be offended if I decline. I've had your coffee before and the stuff's poison.'

'Fine, please yourself.' She drifted back towards Tom and patted him on the chest. 'What about you, d'you fancy some of my poison?'

He grinned. 'Sure. So long as I'm not the only one drinking it!' He paused, remembering some article he'd seen about caffeine and pregnancy. 'Or… shouldn't it be tea?'

Now it was Christine's turn to grimace. 'Not this week.'

Tom sighed, mentally adding it to the list of foods and drinks she was avoiding.

'Coffee it is, then.' He followed her to the kitchenette. 'All I'm saying is, if the squirt's hyperactive you can do the explainin'.'

'Squirt?!' She turned, playfully brandishing the teaspoon at him. 'Who do you think you are, calling our kid a squirt—' She broke off, her expression tightening as Audrey swept in, a small ship in full sail with scarves flowing behind her. '_Damn_.'

'Morning, Audrey,' Tom greeted, a trifle louder than necessary.

'Good morning, you two!' She bustled over, wreathed in twinkles that seemed just a little forced. 'And now, isn't there something you want to tell me?'

'Oh come on, Audrey,' Christine protested. 'I don't think you need me to tell you anything.'

The history teacher wilted. 'I… So it's true?'

'If you've heard what I think you've heard—yes.'

'There's no need to be so coy, Christine,' Sue Spark said at that point and Tom's eyes narrowed as his partner took a half-step back. 'Just say it in plain English. You're pregnant. Knocked up. Got a bun in the oven, in the club, take your pick. It's nothing special, you know. People have babies every day.'

'There's no need for that,' Audrey put in sharply, and Tom let out the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. Audrey might be annoyed on her own account but she'd always come through for Christine. 'Come on, come and sit down.' She practically manhandled the Science teacher towards the chairs and Tom turned back to Christine.

'You OK?' he asked softly.

Her chin came up. 'As if I'd let that little cow get to me.'

'That's it!' He put an arm around her shoulders. 'So shall we? Announce it?'

'Might as well.' Her tone was resigned. Tom sent her a half-grin and was preparing to speak when her hand jerked out to close over his wrist. 'Wait. I'll do it.'

He gestured for her to go ahead, inwardly chortling as Christine swept forward, her chin at a combative angle he knew well.

She clapped sharply. 'If I could have your attention for a moment?'

The staff stilled. Tom heard Simon mutter, 'Wish they'd do that for me,' and smirked at the younger man.

'If it makes you feel better, it usually takes me a couple of goes. Chris just treats them like the kids. Me and you, we're too polite, mate.'

Simon scoffed. 'Yeah, right.'

'OK, then. I'm not going to beat about the bush—or be coy,' Christine began, darting a glare at Sue. Behind him, Tom heard Simon abort a drawn-in breath. 'Yes, it's true. I'm pregnant. Obviously—_obviously_,' she repeated forcefully as her voice threatened to be swallowed by a mingled wave of murmurs and applause, 'it's very early days yet and… well, we don't want any talk. We'd appreciate it if you could sit on the kids if you hear them speculating.'

'Isn't that rather a case of shutting the stable door after the horse?' George asked, eyebrows rising in a straight dark line above his long nose. 'If you've decided to share this now that must mean that the little—er—blighters already know.'

'Dynasty says it's gone viral,' Tom supplied, moving forward to join Christine. 'We know we can't stop the talk altogether but just try to discourage it, eh? As Christine says, it's still very early and if it wasn't for me blowin' my top last week none of you would be any the wiser.' His tone turned rueful as he ended, but the glance Christine sent him soothed his guilt. Uncaring of the staff's collective gaze, he reached out for her hand and squeezed. She smiled, and he went a step further and put his arm around her, grinning when she leaned in, couple-fashion.

George groaned. Audrey and Maggie beamed. Sonya sighed. Mika rolled her eyes and Nikki watched, one corner of her mouth quirking up.

Simon joined them.

'I'm sure I speak for the whole staff when I wish you all the best,' he said, shaking Tom's hand. There was the slightest of hesitations as he turned to Christine—and then it was gone, he was leaning in to give her a congratulatory kiss on the cheek.

The fact that Christine didn't stiffen or flinch away said everything that needed to be said about the warmer relations between them, and Tom beamed. Right now, just at this very moment, everything was right with his world.

'Typical Simon,' Sue snapped, jolting him out of his happy moment. Every line of her body screamed hostility. 'Sucking up _again_, Twinkle? _What_ a surprise.' She stalked out, followed by the bang of the door.

Simon seemed to cringe. 'I'm terribly sorry, anything to do with babies, it's a—a sore point for her. I'll, I'll have a word with her.'

Tom glanced at Christine and glanced again. She was wearing the considering, faintly judicial expression he'd come to know the previous term.

'I think it's going to need more than a word, Simon.' She paused, then: 'Take my advice. One way or another, you need to sort that girl—' She grimaced. 'God, listen to me, I sound ancient. Girl, woman, whatever. Whether you do it personally or professionally, it has to be done—or believe me, she'll go too far one day soon and her career will be over before it's properly started!'

* * *

**Mr Clarkson's room, 10.20am**

* * *

'See, told you they'd be made up to see you,' Dynasty whispered into Kevin's ear as Mr Clarkson began to drone through their latest text. 'All that worryin' for nothin'!'

Kevin tried to smile, he really did. His whole body felt as though it was shaking with the exertion it took to pretend to be normal, and even that pretence shattered as soon as he opened his mouth—or stood up. The crutches helped, but crutches needed a certain amount of physical strength and just now he had none. A wheelchair would have been better, but he cringed inwardly at the mere thought of trying to bring a wheelchair to Waterloo Road.

He flipped his pen around his fingers and stared at his copy of _The Duchess of Malfi _as Mr Clarkson directed various people to read aloud_._ The lines of the play seemed to float above the page, the letters twisting and distorting in a fashion that made him nauseous. Nothing made sense, the cogs of his brain were gummed, jamming with every turn. Was this how it felt to be stupid?

'Jack,' Mr Clarkson prompted. 'Your turn.'

'"I observe our duchess,"' Jack began, '"she's sick-a-days, she pukes, her stomach seethes"—'

'Sounds like Mrs Mulgrew,' Louisa commented, and Kevin nudged Dynasty as hard as he could when he saw her stiffen. 'I saw her running for the toilets again yesterday.'

There was a crash as someone sent a chair flying behind Kevin; he couldn't summon the energy to look.

'Connor, _sit down_,' Mr Clarkson said sharply. 'I'll deal with it later. Jack, carry on.'

'I'm not readin' any more of this, not after what she said! Read it yourself!'

'Sir, when's it due?' someone called from the back.

Even from halfway down the room Kevin could see the nerve jumping along their teacher's jawline.

'None o' your business,' Dynasty said, twisting to glare at the speaker. 'So keep your big nose out, eh?'

'It's a perfectly valid question,' Louisa said in her silky-smooth tones. 'Mrs Mulgrew's Head of English, isn't she, _and_ our Head of Year. Don't we need to know whether she'll be here when we're doing our exams?'

Kevin glanced across at her, catching her eye, and her features softened. 'Hi,' she mouthed across the aisle. 'Welcome back.'

He didn't need Dynasty's jab in the ribs to deliberately turn away. Mrs Mulgrew had been good to him, and it'd be poor recompense to give Louisa any encouragement.

'Rest assured, Miss Fox, when we know the answer to your—your _concerns_ you'll be the first to know,' Mr Clarkson was saying coldly. 'In the meantime, if we could return to the _Duchess_?' His eyes roved the class. 'Connor, please.'

'But _sir_—'

'I'll do it,' Dynasty snapped just as Louisa made the same offer.

Kevin tensed.

'Mr Clarkson, I have years of experience of drama,' Louisa said with a shake of her hair.

'And I can say it with feelin', you know I can,' Dynasty insisted. 'What's all them fancy elocution lessons worth next to real life.'

'You don't know anything about my life!'

'I know you're a spoilt brat who's had everythin' handed to her on a silver plate!'

Kevin watched Louisa out of the corner of his eye. All the fight seemed to have gone out of her.

'Not _everything_. Not anything that really matters.' Her gaze fell on him and Kevin pretended he'd been looking Mr Clarkson the whole time; the teacher seemed as stunned as the rest of the class. 'Dynasty can do it,' Louisa went on softly. 'She's right. She does know what she's talking about.'

'Like I need your say-so,' Dynasty scoffed and started to read, the aggressive edge softening:

_The fins of her eye-lids look most teeming blue,_

_She wanes i' the cheek, and waxes fat i' the flank,_

_And, contrary to our Italian fashion,_

_Wears a loose-bodied gown: there 's somewhat in 't._

_I have a trick may chance discover it,_

_A pretty one; I have bought some apricocks,_

_The first our spring yields._

She stopped. Kevin heard several people snicker but Dynasty ignored them.

'Does 'e mean apricots, sir? Why's he want apricots?'

''C-cos they th-thought they c-could s-start labour,' Kevin said, startling himself. 'Bosola's tryin' t-to pr-prove what he thinks.'

Mr Clarkson was nodding. 'Exactly, Kevin. Well done.'

Kevin managed a half-smile, warmth filling him. At least his photographic memory remained intact, even if the rest of his brain had gone to pot.

'Is that right, sir?' Connor asked. Kevin could hear the anxiety. 'Can apricots cause premature labour?'

'No, that's just an old wives' tale.' Mr Clarkson paused. 'But maybe keep your mum away from them, eh?'

The class laughed, but Connor didn't seem ready to let it go.

'But some foods can be dangerous, yeah?'

'Anything's dangerous when you take it to excess, Connor. OK, everyone, the bell's about to go. Read the rest of the scene and be ready to discuss it next lesson.' The older man moved towards Kevin. 'It's Break, mate, take your time.'

Kevin had been trying to marshal his body into the effort it required to stand up. Mr Clarkson's words were an excuse to rest and he took it, subsiding thankfully into his seat as Louisa started to go past, her head down. He couldn't allow it, not like this. She'd been his friend of sorts, and the bad blood between her and Dynasty shouldn't affect himself and Louisa. He'd had too close a shave to keep petty quarrels going.

'H-hey,' he managed.

Louisa stopped, blue eyes widening.

He tried for something resembling his old grin. 'G-good to b-be back. I've, I've m-missed you.'

It was a general statement that included Louisa in its embrace. He didn't expect her to take it personally, but take it personally she did—and showed it by dropping her bag on the floor, lifting his chin and kissing him on the lips.

* * *

**Library, 10.45am**

* * *

It was Louisa Fox's unmistakable voice that made Connor and Imogen look up from the table they'd bagged for themselves, Dynasty, and Kevin in readiness for their free lesson after break.

'I thought you'd split up!' Louisa was saying as Dynasty propelled her in, followed more slowly by Kevin. 'He dumped you, I was there, remember?'

'Well, you got it wrong, didn't you?' Dynasty put her face into Louisa's. 'Kev an' me, we're back on. And this time, we're stayin' on. Right, Kev?'

Kevin's nod was … lethargic, Connor thought. He exchanged a look with Imogen.

'Get him a seat, he's well wrecked,' his wife mouthed and he nodded agreement and pushed back from the table.

'Come on,' he told his best mate, doing his best to keep his tone as normal as possible. Kevin of all people would hate pity above everything else. 'Best get sorted, you know what Mum's like about us wasting our free time!'

The strained look about Kevin's eyes relaxed. He twitched his shoulders, allowing his bag to slide to the floor with a thump. 'Can you—?'

'Sure.' Connor swung the bag up and blinked. 'Bloody hell. What've you got in here, mate?'

'St-stuff.' Kevin dropped into the seat Imogen held ready. 'Thanks.' He slid down and leaned his head back until it lolled against the plastic back.

Once again Connor exchanged a glance of concern with his Imogen; they'd known that Kevin would not be entirely himself, but they hadn't anticipated this degree of exhaustion.

Dynasty had noticed it too. She came to kneel before her boyfriend, her hands chaffing his. 'C'mon, darlin'. Open those baby-blues and let us see you're OK, eh?'

'He looks like he should be in hospital,' Louisa commented, her eyes raking Kevin where he sat. 'He's come back too soon, if you ask me.'

'No-one did,' Dynasty spat quickly, twisting to face her. 'He's nearly recovered, the doctors said it, all 'e has to do is build up 'is strength, like, and you can't do that in an 'ospital bed!'

One of Louisa's eyebrows quirked in a fashion that annoyed Connor almost as much as it annoyed Dynasty. 'In other words, you pressured him into coming back? How very … _loving_.'

'Lu…' Kevin drawled and Louisa threw them all a triumphant glance.

'I'm here, Kevin,' she said, her gentleness surprising Connor. Was it possible she was genuinely fond of their friend?

Kevin's eyes opened, turning into weary slits. 'Go … go away.'

Louisa sank back onto her heels, the triumph visibly draining out of her. 'What?'

'You heard,' Connor said. 'He's with Dyn now, he doesn't need you hovering—_or_ all this rowing,' he added with a meaning look at Dynasty, who at least had the grace to blush. 'Just get lost, Louisa. No-one wants you and Kev needs to chill before the bell goes.'

'Connor!' Imogen protested.

He shrugged. 'I'm right, aren't I?'

She gave no response.

Louisa got slowly to her feet. 'I'll, I'll go.' She sounded choked.

'Yeah, just run away and tell Auntie Sue,' Connor sneered before he could stop himself. 'Big help she'll be.'

The other sixth former froze. 'You can't talk about my family like that.'

'Why not? You've said plenty about my mum!'

'I haven't said anything that wasn't true!'

Connor saw red. 'Well, here's another truth for you. My mum's got her faults but at least she's not a crackhead!'

Louisa's laugh was harsh. 'You're getting confused, you're the one with the addict for a mother!'

'She's in recovery! And she's _here_. And your mum is… where, exactly?' Louisa whitened and Connor closed in the for the kill. 'I'll tell you where, she's probably lying doped-up in some ditch!'

'My mum's not a druggie!'

'That's not what Mr Lowsley says!'

Louisa reeled. '_What_?'

'Connor, stop it,' Imogen was insisting, pulling at his arm, but he was so focused on finally putting Louisa Fox in her place that he ignored her.

'Yeah, you heard. Uncle Simon says your mum's a drug addict. That's how he met Miss Dim Spark.'

This time it was Connor's turn to reel when Louisa slapped him across the face, the blow leaving stinging finger-trails on his skin.

'You deserved that,' Imogen told him. 'I tried to make you stop, Connor!'

Louisa was shaking where she stood.

'My mum's _not_ a drug addict,' she said in a voice that was impeccably controlled—too impeccably controlled, Connor would realise later—'and as for where she is…' She had to pause. 'They tried to hide it from us but we _knew_. She's dead, happy now? And she's dead because she ran off and killed herself!'

* * *

_**TBC!**_

_**Next time: Everyone forgets that Christine is no longer Head as they turn to her to sort the whole mess out. But can she? **_


	28. Episode 7-3

_Thank you so, so much to **Paisley** and **Lori** for your reviews. In fact, as a thank you I'd like to write you something—an outtake from this, a one-shot, a short story… take your pick. One each. Obviously WR/Christine-centric, but I'm happy to go canon if you like!Let me know which via pm/review!_

_**Paisley**, your reviews make me smile every time. You've been my most faithful reviewer since half-way into the first story, and I thank you for that._

_**Lori**, you don't pull your punches and that's great. I really needed you to point out that things were a bit lacking in drama lately. I'd tried but it lacked oomph, I think! Hopefully this chapter is better and don't worry—there's plenty of Tomstine drama coming soon. I just hope I can give it the welly it deserves!_

* * *

**Miss Spark's room, 11.15am**

* * *

Louisa was sitting at her usual place in Science, her aunt's voice washing over her. Usually she would have made an effort to at least look interested—just on general family principles—but not today. Not now. Not ever, as far as she was concerned.

She was cold. _So cold_.

Was Connor right? Was her mother alive?

Had she been alive all these years while her daughters believed her dead—and worse, dead at her own hand?

She tried to pull her blazer tighter but it was so well-cut that there was no spare fabric to pull; for the first time, she found herself looking enviously as Jasmine Maguire, whose tiny form was swamped by her too-large blazer, or even Rhiannon Salt, who customarily wore the extra layer of a cardigan. Louisa had neither for refuge, but she'd a feeling she'd still be shivering inside even if she was sitting next to a roaring fire. Shock could do that, she'd heard, but it was the first time she'd experienced it firsthand.

While Sue directed everyone's attention to an experiment she was performing, Louisa reached for her phone, one finger automatically going through the motions of waking it up. Her heart sank anew when yet again she was confronted with a blank screen.

_Come on, Em. We're twins, aren't we? We're supposed to have a special bond. Can't you feel I need you? _

She'd spent Break in the most remote loo she could find, desperately hitting her sister's name over and over—to no avail. Not that she was surprised; Emily had told her several times that at Dene Hollow their mobiles were taken off them every night just before lights out and not returned until prep was done the following day. There were ways around it, Louisa knew, but Emily—Head Girl and naturally law-abiding besides—would never attempt them.

Once they'd been close, so close that they'd literally been able to read each other's thoughts. They were identical twins, their only difference as little kids had been that one could hear and the other couldn't. They'd turned it into an advantage, creating a weird and wonderful form of sign-language understood by themselves alone. At times Louisa had felt deaf herself; she'd wondered if Emily had also felt hearing. Two halves of the same whole, never separated even for a night until they were sent to their respective boarding schools at eleven.

Louisa had spent all of first form grieving her sister's absence—a grief that was gradually replaced by a barely articulated ache as she came to understand that Emily did not miss her with the same intensity. To Emily, Dene Hollow was a revelation. Being deaf there was _normal_. She'd quickly become one of the most popular girls in her year while Louisa floundered in the more rarefied atmosphere of Cheltenham, burdened as she was by the reputations of the three generations who had preceded her. And now … Emily was fully integrated into the Deaf community. Louisa suspected that her twin resented coming home for the holidays, resented having to use the voice which was excellent but perceptibly wrong to hearing ears. The voice that marked her as different.

_She's not gonna care what Connor said_, Louisa realised as she stared at the infuriatingly empty screen. _Her family are her mates and her boyfriend, not me and Sue and Gramps. She'll shrug and get over it, this—this _thing _about our mum isn't gonna turn _her_ world inside out_.

She gulped, determined not to cry. If she started crying now she'd never stop … and the only thing worse than crying in public was crying alone in public, with no-one even attempting to comfort her. Certainly Sue would not try, she was bleakly certain of that.

'Louisa!'

Reluctantly she raised her eyes to the older woman's face. Sue was tight-lipped with annoyance.

'I've asked you three times to join Rhiannon and Jasmine for the experiment. Wake up and pay attention, for pity's sake!'

Louisa was preparing to move when rebellion scalded through her. She'd half-risen; now she sat down with such force that the stool rocked beneath her.

Sue's eyebrows rushed together. 'Louisa—'

'No,' Louisa said clearly.

'_No_?' her aunt echoed.

Rhiannon leaned over. 'Just shurrup an' move. You'll only wind her up.'

Louisa lifted her chin and looked her aunt in the eyes. 'No.'

Sue bristled, visibly indignant. 'I will not tolerate impudence, especially from sixth formers!'

Louisa said nothing. She also remained very firmly fixed in her place.

'I'll send you to the cooler!'

Louisa lifted an eyebrow. 'No.'

The room went quiet.

'Lo_uisa_!' Sue actually stamped her foot. 'Do—as—I—say! Cooler, _now_!'

'No.'

Sue stared. Her lower lip was starting to tremble, but Louisa ignored it. She'd had a lifetime of ignoring Sue's emotional manipulations.

'Why are you doing this?' her aunt hissed, moving closer. 'You're showing me up, you're showing us both up. What's Simon going to think?'

'I don't care,' Louisa said, still with that crystal clarity. She didn't need to hear the rustle at the back to know her voice had carried.

'Come _on_, Lulu—' Sue placed a hand on her arm.

Louisa jerked away from the touch as though it burned.

'Don't,' she forced through her teeth. 'Don't call me that. You don't get to call me that!'

'Lu—'

'No!' Louisa was on her feet, glaring at the older woman. 'Don't come near me, don't talk to me, don't tell me what to do! You've no right!' Her voice broke.

Sue laughed that tinkling, condescending laugh.

'Of course I have! I'm your teacher, I'm your _aunt_—'

The reference to their relationship was the last straw. Louisa slapped her, hard. Harder than she'd slapped Connor half an hour before.

Sue returned it with interest, the blow causing Louisa's head to snap back with a vicious recoil that promised pain later; in the meantime, her cheek throbbed white-hot. More than a little dazed, she lifted a hand to trace the heart of it. Her stomach flipped when her fingers came away red, dyed from the laceration created by Sue's diamond ring.

The sight freed the class from their breathless quiet. They exploded as Sue turned hysterical, but Louisa could not stay a moment longer. She slipped out almost unnoticed and started to run, wounded inside and out, instinctively seeking for somewhere to hide.

* * *

**Mr Clarkson's office, 11.20am**

* * *

Christine was on a roll, Tom thought, watching her as she paced his office and gesticulated with more than her usual emphasis as she informed him of the latest developments.

'So. I go to the library to supervise Year 12 after Break—or rather, those who have insisted on dropping out of the science module—and narrowly avoid getting run over by Louisa Fox. And yes, Tom, I am _fine_.'

He shifted sheepishly as his partner paused to fix him with a glare. He hadn't said anything; he hadn't needed to. She huffed and the pacing resumed.

'I demand an explanation when Miss Fox refuses to stop. And who's at the centre of it? I'll give you three guesses. In fact, I shouldn't have to give you any, after this morning!'

'It's not that bad, love,' Tom said. 'At least Connor was honest, wasn't he?'

'Yes, after my sensible daughter-in-law gave him a kick where he needed it!'

He couldn't help grinning. The situation wasn't particularly funny, but Christine's exasperation was—just a little.

'So?' he prompted when several seconds ticked by and she'd said nothing more. 'What's the latest incident?'

Christine gave him a look as she seated herself, resting on her elbows on his desk and rubbing her temples. 'It's… not good,' she began softly, and Tom's amusement fled. 'Connor said… he said that Simon had told him, by accident, that Louisa's mother was a drug addict. Of course it never occurred to him that _perhaps_ it might be useful for me to know this! It makes sense of Sue's hostility… ' She stopped, her lips pressing tightly together and her shoulders slumping.

Tom leaned forward. 'Hey. You're not to blame for their problems, Simon's or Sue's. They're supposed to be adults, and professionals at that.'

'Yeah, but… ' She shook her head. 'I see the damage they've sustained and I cringe. I hope to God I got my act together in time. I couldn't bear it if Connor—'

'He'll be fine,' Tom insisted. 'We'll see to it, won't we?' His smile was tender and after a moment she nodded. 'Right then. Louisa?'

By the time Christine had finished telling him everything she'd heard from Connor and company Tom was cringing on his own account. What a tangled mess; no wonder the girl had run off.

'I said I was going to talk to them,' Christine was saying, 'but I don't know. It's none of my business and I'm not Head any longer. I should just leave it alone.'

His grin was full of affection. 'You can't do that. Because you, Christine Mulgrew, know the damage secrets and lies can do—and you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you didn't at least try to put it right.' He blew out a gusty sigh. 'That poor kid, she's not gonna know where her head's at right now if she's honestly believed all these years that her mum's dead. And by _suicide_!' He swallowed as an old memory played in his mind's eye. 'Chris, if she's right, if that's what happened, we need to get her help. Suicide … it poisons grief. More than murder, I think.'

'Because you don't have someone to hate?' Christine suggested, her gaze softening. 'Are _you_ OK? Is it… Lorna?'

He nodded. 'Yeah.' His throat tightened as he thought of all his hostages to fortune, past and present. Especially the ones he'd failed. 'Just be careful, eh? You and Squirt?'

She rolled her eyes. 'You're not going to call it that!'

'Why not? Nice and neutral, innit? I won't need to change to something gender-appropriate when it's born.' He grinned, but the anxiety he was feeling for her—for _them_—must have shown. Christine was shaking her head.

'Tom, I don't want you worrying about me, not because of the baby. I had no problems last time, there's no reason to believe there'll be any this.' He opened his mouth and her eyes narrowed. 'Stop right there, Clarkson. If you say "eighteen years" I may have to hurt you.'

He laughed and held up his hands. 'OK, OK, I'll stop hovering. I can't help worrying, but I'll try not to annoy you too much.'

Her lips twisted in a half-grin. 'Good. I can live with that.' She pushed to her feet and he leaned back in his chair to look up at her.

'Gonna get the ball rolling?' She nodded and he rose. 'Need a hand?'

She chewed her lip. 'Just keep an eye out later? For Sue?'

'_Sue_?'

'Yeah. Connor's feeling guilty—with good reason, I think—and he and Imogen will do their best for Louisa, I'm sure. Sue… she could be the wild card here, Tom. You said yourself that her relationship with Simon seems rocky and she's hardly going to confide in me.'

'She could do worse,' Tom pointed out as he joined her at the door. 'Well, you know where I am if you need me.'

Christine put her arms around his neck. 'Yeah, right behind me, ready to catch me if I fall.' She paused. 'I don't say it enough, but I love you.'

He hugged her hard, warmth and love and joy gushing inside him. The memory of the little velvet box in his desk nagged at him. 'Chris, there's something—'

Rhiannon Salt burst into the room, cutting him off. 'Oh good, you're 'ere,' she panted, hardly seeming to register what she'd interrupted. 'Sir, miss, you gotta come, Louisa an' Miss Spark, they went for each other, Lulu's bleedin'-!'

Tom met Christine's eyes and she nodded understanding. Ignoring Rhiannon, he took her hand and pulled her out of his office, both moving at a fast clip. The velvet box would have to wait. The school came first.

* * *

**Head's office, 11.50am**

* * *

'I'm gonna have to suspend you, Sue!' Simon was shouting as Christine and Tom entered his office. 'You assaulted a _student_. It doesn't matter that she hit you first, it doesn't matter that she's your niece. You hit her, hit her hard enough to make her _bleed_, for God's sake!'

'But Simon, I—'

'Sue!' Simon bellowed. 'You don't get it, you were in the wrong! You can't excuse this, this is the unforgivable sin in teaching! Tell you what, I hope you've kept in with your flying mates because at this rate you're gonna need them!'

'Simon,' Christine interrupted sharply. 'Hold on, OK? I don't think you've heard the full story.' He looked at her, his jaw so tense that for a moment she thought he was going to order her out of his office.

Instead, he deflated, moving away from his desk. 'Fine, go ahead.' He went to collapse on the sofa. 'And sit down. That chair's always been yours anyway,' he ended, throwing his fiancee a bitter look.

Christine hesitated but Tom indicated the seat behind the desk with a nod. Slowly, she returned to it, the mantle of authority dropping once more on her shoulders as she settled. The mantle was heavier than she remembered, and the chair no longer so comfortable.

She drew a deep breath, summoning every ounce of energy and patience she could muster.

'First, I've got the prefects looking for Louisa. She'll be here as soon as they find her. I _hope_. Secondly. Simon, have you given Sue a chance to explain?' Simon's gaze twitched away, and Christine carried on. 'Or were you too busy tearing strips off her to actually _listen _to what she might have to say?'

Simon's eyes flickered up and away again, his cheeks darkening at the reprimand. Christine turned to the young Science teacher.

'And you, Sue. Simon's right, you know. You should be suspended, no matter what. But—' She sighed. 'There's wheels within wheels, aren't there? And I can't help feeling responsible, since all this is partly Connor's fault.'

'_Connor_?' Simon echoed.

Christine's gaze swivelled back to him. 'Yes. Something about Sue's sister and drugs?' The younger pair whitened. 'H'mm. And unfortunately your niece, Miss Spark, has been exercising her usual talent for winding people up, with the usual results. Connor let it out—only to find that Louisa didn't know anything about it, that indeed she believes—or _believed_—that her mother killed herself!'

'_What_?' Sue gasped.

'That's what she told Connor, and Kevin and my daughter-in-law backed him up. She's deeply upset. I'm not surprised she went into her next lesson looking for a fight.'

'She—she w-wouldn't to a-anything I asked,' Sue sniffled. 'She just _wouldn't_.'

'That's not like her,' Tom put in. 'Granted, she can be insolent, but she's clever enough to keep it veiled. It's so subtle that it's difficult to pull her on it. If she was openly defiant did it not occur to you to investigate?'

The younger woman's copper head dipped. 'I … I was too embarrassed,' she muttered. 'Humiliated.' She sniffled and glanced up at Christine through her lashes. 'It's easy for you to say she's not openly insolent. Maybe she's not to _you_ or at school, but at home—' She shook her head and sniffled again. 'She treats me like dirt.'

Christine waited for several beats before asking gently, 'And how do you treat her, h'mm? She's a teenager, Sue. Nearly eighteen, isn't she?' The copper head dipped again. 'Almost an adult, then. I know, it's a difficult line to walk, but you need to give her the benefit of the doubt and treat her as you would … any other adult.' She scoffed. 'Or perhaps I should say, an adult you respect.'

Sue's cheeks rivalled her hair at that and Christine felt ashamed. That was an unnecessary dig. 'I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that, it was wrong of me.'

'Sue?' Simon prompted when Sue remained quiet. 'Anything to say?'

A wave of compassion for the younger woman rushed over Christine, surprising her. Sue had messed up and no mistake … but so too had she in her time, and she'd been given a chance to make amends. Proud as she was of what she'd achieved professionally in the past year, she was even prouder of the bridges she'd built with her son, her daughter-in-law, and their friends. Didn't Sue also deserve that chance?

'It's OK,' she said softly. 'I don't need you to say anything to me, Sue. I'm not headteacher here, that's Simon. It's up to him what he chooses to do. And I'm not going to preach at you about parenting because I have no room to talk to _anyone_ about parenting—'

'_Parenting_?' Sue echoed, her head coming up very slowly.

Christine gestured. 'Not parenting, then, you know what I mean. She's your niece, I couldn't think of a better way of putting it—'

'You—you were right the first time,' Sue choked into her hands.

'_What_?' Simon exclaimed as Christine and Tom exchanged startled glances.

'Charlotte isn't the twins' mother,' Sue rasped, looking up. 'She—she adopted them. I'm their mother, it's me, but they mustn't know.' She grabbed Simon's hands. 'Louisa mustn't know!'

* * *

**TBC!**

**Next time: Sue fumbles, Simon makes up his mind, bridges are built and the Mulgrews and Tom take an initiative that annoys Christine.**

**Please, please review. Even if it's negative—I'd rather people reviewed to say what they didn't like or wanted more of than just disappearing, because then I haven't got a clue! See you next time, ox. **


	29. Episode 7-4

_**Has anyone else found themselves yelling (mentally, of course) 'No, Christine, don't do it' during EastEnders this week… before the duh moment of remembering that Jane Beale is not Christine Mulgrew, appearances aside…?**_

_**Thanks for the reviews, as always! I hate nagging for them (because as a reader I hate to be nagged) but it's difficult to continue without when I'm doing 3-4000 words each time. But thank you for responding so promptly, it's much appreciated. **_

_**Paisley**__ and __**Lori**__: I'm currently working on a couple of posts for _Paying the Piper_, as promised and requested. Can't promise how quickly I'll get them done but will do my best!_

_**Loulouberry**__: Thanks!_

_**Paisley**__: LOL, I'm so relieved no-one spotted it—or has said they've suspected it. _

_**Niamhemilee**__: More Tomstine coming right up … some of it very fluffy. Too fluffy? You'll have to let me know!_

_**Lori**__: You weren't harsh at at. Harsh would be 'this is crap and you should forget it'. You were right, and keep on being right, _please_. It's very easy to get caught up and because _I_ know what's coming, I don't necessarily notice when the pace slows but given the episodic nature of this (for you as readers) that can't happen._

_**Jessiekat**__: Hi! Hope you're enjoying uni, mad or otherwise. As for Sue, keep reading. Actually, her age isn't really the issue. I'm kind of wishing I'd stuck to Laurie Brett's age for Christine instead of following the (inconsistent) BBC line! _

_**M.K**__.: LOL. Thank you. Hope you continue to enjoy!_

_**SweetiesNCupcakes**__: Yay, another shock. That was the plan, a totally unexpected twist. It was so unexpected it shocked even me…_

_**Guest**__: RE Connor: what did you have in mind? It wouldn't work for this story but I'm currently mulling ideas for the third. I have an idea triggered by your comment that I think it could work well, but was there something specific? _

* * *

**Head's office, 12.10pm**

* * *

Sue was still holding on to her fiancee, looking up at him imploringly. It didn't matter that Christine and Tom were there, it didn't matter that her nie—her _daughter_—might be upon them at any moment. The only thing that mattered was for Simon to say that it was OK, that he understood.

But his expression was blank, as if he was looking at a stranger.

'Simon? Say something!'

'I…' He grabbed at the curls she'd once loved to run her fingers through and turned away, shaking his head.

'I was _thirteen_! _Barely_ thirteen! It was my first time, two kids fumbling around pretending to be grown up—'

'So what, you let your sister adopt them?! Whose genius plan was that?'

'It wasn't mine, I was just a kid, I didn't know what was happening until the labour started and then … it all happened so fast. They were two months early and… and after it was over I wanted to pretend it never happened. It was Dad who got Charlie to adopt them, she'd been trying for kids with her husband—'

'Yeah, who was dealing drugs!'

'I didn't know, I didn't _know_!' Tears were streaming down Sue's face. She tried to grab him again. 'Simon—'

He practically danced away from her touch, his hands outstretched as though to fend her off. 'Don't. I, I'm struggling to get my head round this. I'm just—it's just _lies_ upon _lies_ and yet _more_ lies!' He started pacing, his open jacket flapping as he moved, and she watched. Would _anything_ she'd said get through?

He turned back to her, a finger raised admonishingly. 'It's gotta stop. It can't go on. You have to tell her the truth.'

A warning sound from Christine made Sue glance up to see Louisa standing at the door, and her breath caught so sharply it whistled. How much had she heard?

'What truth?' Louisa's eyes were fixed on hers, glaring. Sue shook her head. The girl took a step forward. 'You've got to tell me something, you can't just—' She broke off and Sue glanced up through her eyelashes in time to see Connor Mulgrew put a supportive hand on Louisa's shoulder.

Unexpectedly, it seemed to give her courage. Her chin lifted.

'I'm sick of it, Auntie Sue! No matter what it is, tell me? _Please_?'

Someone said something. Sue wasn't sure what; the only thing she could hear was the thudding of her pulse in her ears as she tried to steady her breathing.

Gradually the pounding receded.

'—tell her, miss.' Connor Mulgrew was more assertive than she'd expected. She'd always thought of him as a quiet boy, permanently wounded by his mother's alcoholism—but now he wasn't speaking as a student to a teacher, he was speaking as one adult to another. 'You have to talk to each other, you need to be honest. It's a nightmare but it's the only way, isn't it, Mum?'

Sue's eyes moved to Christine. When she met the older woman's gaze she was disconcerted to find understanding there as she nodded.

'Lying… doesn't fix anything, Sue. Trust me, I know all about lying. About lying to other people _and_ lying to yourself. No matter what excuses you tell… it doesn't work. The longer you leave it, the worse the hurt in the end.' Christine paused. 'Connor's _right_. Louisa deserves to know.'

Sue's heart escalated as renewed panic surged through her. She couldn't tell Louisa, she'd promised her dad years ago that the twins would never know. Her chest tightened and she started to gasp, one hand flailing for her bag and the tranquilisers there.

'I—I c-can't … Simon, _please_—'

The band was tightening. Her vision started to darken and she let it. It was one way out, wasn't it?

A rough shaking jolted her out of it, making her eyes fly wide.

'It's no good,' Louisa spat. 'I'm not gonna fall for that, I know you too well! _What is it?_' Another shake, this time hard enough to to make Sue's teeth chatter in her skull.

Simon came to her rescue.

'Easy, Lulu,' he soothed, pulling Louisa away but that was it—he stayed with Louisa, he didn't seem to care how shaken Sue was. A sob caught and she looked at him pleadingly.

'Simon—'

His eyes were like coals, black and hard. 'We're waiting, Sue.'

She looked at each of them, this impromptu audience. Simon, who no longer loved her, she was certain of it now. Louisa, who never had. Tom, grave and watchful. Christine, her expression guarded, and Connor…

'Get him out of here,' Sue choked. 'It's bad enough having to say anything, just… _get him out!_'

'Go on, son,' Christine urged.

Sue was panting as Connor left, his reluctance plain in the look he sent her daughter. Nor was she calmed by Louisa's sudden movement towards him, grabbing at his arm.

'Wait for me?'

He gave Sue a long, considering look. The same judicial look she'd received from his mother on occasion. 'Sure. I'll be in the corridor.'

'Thanks.' When the office door had closed behind him Louisa moved to stand in front of Sue. 'Now.'

'You've got to understand, Lulu—'

'I told you, you don't get to call me that! Now tell me!'

_I can't tell her, Dad'll never forgive me, he'll cut me off and Simon'll leave me, he's just waiting for the right time… I'll be all alone and I can't, I _can't—

'I'll ask Gramps,' Louisa threatened. 'I'll tell him you told me something and I want to know the rest, I'll give him no peace until he gives in—'

Sue flung up her hands. 'I'll tell you, I'll tell you! But he mustn't know!'

'OK.' Louisa seemed to calm down.

Sue exhaled slowly. All was not lost, she could tell the truth. Of a sort.

'Connor's right,' she said. 'Charlie isn't dead. She's a druggie. A junkie. A crackhead. She spends her life drifting between rehab and short spells in prison.' Louisa made a little sound, but Sue wasn't going to stop, not after they'd forced her into this corner. 'She doesn't care about anything or anyone, the only thing she cares about is getting her next fix—'

'Sue!' Simon protested.

She turned on him. 'What, is that too much truth for you, Twinkle? Well, there you go, Louisa. You wanted the truth, there's the truth. She walked out on you and Emily when you were five years old.' The girl was glassy-eyed but Sue couldn't shut up. 'Couldn't hack twins, couldn't hack having a deaf kid, couldn't hack life. So yeah, we let you think she was dead. I'm not sure where you got suicide from, but that's kids for you…' She shrugged. 'You see? A lie, a nice, smooth well-crafted lie, that's so much easier to live with—'

'_Enough_,' Christine ordered, half-rising. 'For God's sake, Sue!'

'It's all right, Mrs Mulgrew,' Louisa said in a voice that rang strangely even in Sue's ears. 'I asked for it, didn't I?'

Sue subsided into the embrace of the sofa, her mouth clamping shut as Tom put an arm around the sixth former's shoulders and escorted her from the office. The look he sent Sue when he returned should have frozen her blood.

'How is she?' Christine asked.

'She's with Connor and Imogen. She's hardly capable of talking; Imogen's signing.'

Christine sighed. 'Oh, Sue. Why didn't you—'

'You wanted the truth, I told the truth,' Sue said tightly. 'No-one said it had to be the full truth.'

Christine was rubbing her temples.

'Are you OK?' Simon asked, the concern in his voice piercing Sue to the heart.

'I think she's had enough,' Tom volunteered, rounding the desk to pull Christine up. 'Come on, you. A bit of lunch and a rest, yeah?'

'Remind me to murder you later, Tom Clarkson,' Christine told him, and the knife in Sue's heart twisted as they exchanged a look that belied Christine's tart tone. 'So much for not hovering, eh?'

'Why don't you take the afternoon off?' Simon suggested.

Christine paused. Even Sue could see how worn she was, but she shook her head. 'No. I'm free after lunch. I'll take things easily until then. I've got Year 12 last lesson and I want to be there.'

Sue flinched at everything left unspoken.

'Only if you're sure,' Simon was saying gently. 'And Christine?'

The older pair stopped by the door.

'Yeah?'

'When you want your chair back, all you have to do is say the word.'

And Sue knew then, without a doubt, that it was over.

* * *

**Mulgrew Household, 5.00pm**

* * *

Christine was wakened by a soft 'Hey' and the feel of the mattress dipping beneath her. She rolled towards the voice, eyes still closed, her lips twitching in a half-smile.

'Hey.'

'Sorry I took so long,' Tom said as he stretched out beside her. 'Simon was tearing his hair out, I couldn't leave until he'd finished working his way through everything that's happened.'

'Sorry I bailed on you,' Christine told him, opening her eyes. 'I would have preferred to stay but by the time the bell went…' She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. 'It was all I could do not to fall asleep while I waited for Connor to come for me.'

Tom brushed a wisp of hair away from her face. 'Feeling better now?'

Christine studied the ceiling. 'H'mm.' She gave him a sidelong glance. 'Lucky I didn't take Simon up on his offer, isn't it?'

'Do you wish you had?' he asked softly.

'No. No!' She lifted a hand to his cheek. 'I was thinking today when I was sitting in that chair that it didn't feel as right as it did.' She moved her hand down to rest on his chest, above his heart. 'I'm happy where I am, Tom. No regrets, I promise. _But_ … that doesn't mean I don't still feel responsible for the school, so don't let Lowsley mess it up—or he'll be getting a stern talking-to when I feel less shattered than I do right now.'

Tom frowned and Christine could have kicked herself. She hadn't meant to reveal how very drained and fragile she felt. She rushed on, trying to distract him.

'Anyway. What's happening with Sue?'

Her lover gave her a look that said he wasn't convinced. 'She's not allowed to teach until he talks to the GTC. She could lose her QTS, but if the GTC know it was a family affair spilling into school they might allow her to retrain at Waterloo Road under similar conditions to Mika's. Assuming she wants to stay, that is.'

Christine lifted her eyebrows at that. 'Assuming she wants to stay … She'll be in school?'

Tom grimaced. 'From what Simon says, she'll be sticking around. Something to do with her dad tying her hands. He never liked her being a flight attendant, thought it wasn't good enough for her, even though she loved it.' He sighed. 'That's not all, Simon told me he's broken it off with her. Can't say I'm surprised, but it's not gonna make it easy for Sue on top of everything else, is it?'

'No.' She stroked his chest as she thought of Sue, compassion for the younger woman filling her once again. 'And Louisa? She was very quiet this afternoon, but I suppose that was only to be expected. Connor says that he and Imogen are gonna stand by her. Kevin too. Dyn might take some convincing, but she'll get there in the end—'

'If she doesn't, you can give _her_ a stern talking-to,' Tom teased.

She jabbed him. 'What have I told you about making fun of me?'

'Hey, you can give me all the stern talking-tos you like.' He pretended to leer and she laughed.

'You're impossible. Listen, I've been thinking. Simon wants to do that survival course for Years 11 and 12 next week, doesn't he?'

Tom moved so that he could prop his head, his elbow resting in his pillow. 'Yeah, next Wednesday. Why? You're not plannin' on joining them, are you?'

She rolled her eyes. 'Very funny. Not me, I'd be as much use as a chocolate teapot—but what about Sue? They don't need a trained teacher on that trip, they need an adult with a few grains of sense and first aid training. Sue's got those—well, the first aid, at least.'

Tom guffawed. 'She'll need the sense too if we're sending her anywhere with that lot.' He sobered. She could see him revolving the idea in his mind. 'You might be on to something there,' he continued slowly. 'Louisa's on that trip. Are you hoping the different surroundings will get 'em talking? Give Sue the nudge she needs to tell Lulu everything?'

She shrugged. 'Possibly.'

'Or given that it's Waterloo Road it could all go horribly wrong, but we can live in hope.' He leaned over to kiss her. 'Hmmm—'

'Mum! Tom! Dinner!'

They separated, groaning in unison.

'I swear he knows,' Tom grumbled as they struggled to disentangle themselves. 'His timing is entirely too good.'

Christine perched on the edge of the bed, steeling herself against the sickening lurch of the senses she knew she'd experience as she shifted to standing. 'Er … maybe tell him I'm not up for food, eh?'

'You have to eat, Chris.'

'What's the point if I'm just going to bring it up again?'

Tom smirked, surprising her. 'I don't think you'll bring this up. Connor told me it's chicken soup and rice for you, love.'

'Huh. Clearly he's confused. I'm having a baby, not eating like one!'

'Come on.' For the second time that afternoon Tom took her hands and pulled her gently to her feet, his hands going to steady her when she wavered. 'OK?'

She'd closed her eyes as he pulled her up; slowly, she dared to open them and was relieved to find her world relatively stable. 'Yeah.' She blew out a breath. 'What about the rest of you, do you get baby food too?'

Tom grinned, clearly relieved that she could joke. 'Not us. Soup and man-sandwiches with gallons of builder-tea.'

'_Mum! Tom!_ Don't make me send Imogen up!' floated in exasperated tones up the stairs.

'Bloody role-reversal,' Tom muttered before yelling, 'Wind your neck in, mate, we're coming!'

They were halfway down the landing, Christine's hand resting on the crook of Tom's arm, when he said casually, 'Oh yeah, nearly forgot. We've booked you a doctor's appointment for tomorrow.'

She stopped dead, everything inside sinking. '_What_?'

'I know, I know, we said we were gonna wait until the three month mark, but I don't like how this is affecting you, Chris. You're tired all the time, eating's hit and miss, you're not looking well—'

'It's called being pregnant at forty, idiot,' she told him through her teeth, and for once the insult was not an endearment. She lifted her hand from his arm. 'Excuse me. You'll have to tell Connor I don't fancy his baby food after all.' Before Tom could respond she'd taken the few steps into the bathroom and locked herself in, leaning against it on the other side, struggling with renewed nausea and trying not to cry.

'Christine!' he called through the door. 'What is it? Why are you so angry?'

'You promised you wouldn't hover! It's my body, it's up to me to decide when I'm ready to go to the doctor!'

'I don't understand, love.' Tom sounded as if his position mirrored hers. 'Don't you want to check everything's OK?'

She closed her eyes, lips pressed together in an effort to retain her composure. 'Course I do, but … not yet.' She stopped and sniffed hard. 'I'm not ready, I need to work myself up to it.' She slid down so that she was sitting on the floor.

'Why?' It wasn't a harsh demand; it was a gentle plea.

She tried to find a way to put the strangling fear coursing through her into words he could understand. It was the poking, the probing, the examinations, the questions, the criticisms, the warnings … She wasn't stupid, she knew she'd be strongly encouraged to do the full battery of tests, given her age and history, and that would mean more poking and prodding to batter her already fragile defences. She'd always hated doctors and the last months of her first pregnancy had hardened the hatred into barely-controlled phobia.

She could only say, 'I'm not _ready_, Tom!'

'But will you be ready in four weeks?' he muttered through the inches of wood before breaking off to yell, '_Yes_, Connor! Give us a minute, will you?'

Her attempt at restraining her tears had failed; she was crying freely now. 'I'll have to be, that's when they do the first scan.'

She heard him groan. 'What if I come with you tomorrow and we say we don't want anything more than a very simple check and maybe a blood test, just to confirm? Could you do that?'

Every instinct urged her to insist that no, she couldn't, but he was trying so hard. And in truth, it _would_ be easier if he was with her. The hellish quality she remembered from eighteen years ago had come chiefly from being so utterly alone so soon after her other ordeal.

'You won't insist on anything more, no matter what they advise?' Her heart beat fast and hard against her ribs as she awaited his answer.

'Come on love, you know me better than that. You won't have to do anything until you're ready.'

She capitulated, allowing her head to clunk against the door. 'Fine, I'll go. But just for a quick check and blood test!'

'That's all I want,' Tom said gently. 'I just want to know that you and Squirt are OK—but mostly you.'

Christine covered her mouth with one hand as the other slowly reached up to flip the lock. The door opened with a soft _whish_ and Tom peered around it, his blue eyes worried.

'Can I come in?'

Unable to speak, she nodded.

He crawled to her and pulled her towards him. Christine did not resist, hiding her face in the crook of his neck and shoulder while he rocked her as if she was a child awakened from nightmare. But she was no child and her nightmares were grounded in the eighteen year old reality that had come before the dreams.

* * *

_TBC_

_Next time: The atmosphere's tense for the Mulgrews as they differ over the doctor's opinions while at Waterloo Road survival training is the order of the day. _

_Please don't forget to tell me what you think!_


	30. Episode 8-1

_Next bit! This is the first of the final three episodes, so while this particular chapter is fillerish, it sets the scene for what's coming, so bear with it!_

* * *

****ED TRIGGER ALERT ON THIS CHAPTER****

* * *

_**Guest**__: The last story was very much an action-based plot. This one was always going to be slower and more character-driven. I'm sorry if it hasn't been exciting enough for you and hopefully the next three episodes will make up for it! _

_**Sophie**__: I'm glad you were taken aback by Sue, that's what I wanted! And yep, I'm going to be doing another two instalments of _Piper_. I've got one part slowly evolving but may have to wait on the other._

_**Niamhemiliee**__: I'm really glad you feel sorry for Louisa, even if you didn't/don't like her. Rocky times ahead for Tomstine… _

_**Paisley**__: *evil cackle* Yes, indeed. Sue and Louisa…. _

_**AmyOncer**__: I'm humming and hahhing over that at the moment, so all may not be lost for Sue/Simon. Please see the note at the bottom of this chapter re Sue!_

_**Lori**__: Thank you! That always means a lot ;) As for Christine, heh. _

* * *

**Mulgrew Household, 6.50am**

* * *

'How is she?' Connor whispered as Tom entered the kitchen.

He groaned and sank glumly into the chair Imogen pulled forward. 'I haven't asked.'

'But no … no nightmares?' Imogen started to sign as she mouthed the words, a mannerism he'd become accustomed to.

He cast a quick glance behind him in case Christine had followed him down. He quailed at the thought of her response if she'd overheard. 'No. Thank God. Last week was bad enough.'

Christine had said little after their doctor's appointment, but that night she'd wakened him with pleas not to touch her, not to hurt her. He'd roused her but she hadn't wanted comfort—she'd headed for the bathroom where she stayed for an hour and had refused to discuss it again. The next morning she'd looked so ill that Tom insisted on her taking the day off—and had phoned in to tell Sonya so, much to her annoyance. Then he'd added insult to injury by disposing of the remains of the vodka under the sink _and_ was unfortunate enough to get caught. The result was a colossal row and even now, several days later, both he and the younger Mulgrews were still walking on eggshells.

'You did the right thing, mate,' Connor said in a low tone. 'If I'd known there was booze in the house—' He shook his head.

'It wasn't like that, she told me she had it weeks ago.' Tom stirred his coffee and sighed. 'I didn't _really_ think she'd drink it, but didn't want to leave temptation around, y'know?'

''Morning, Christine.' Imogen's louder-than-required greeting warned him and he turned.

Christine's eyes were glinting. 'You can all stop pretending. Do you think I don't know when I'm being talked about?'

Connor leaned forward.

'Don't be angry, Mum. We're just worried about you.'

Christine took the seat next to him, opposite Tom, her gaze skating over his. 'There's no need. The doctor said I'm fine.'

'Chris—' Tom protested as Connor mouthed _Typical_ across the table.

She lifted a hand. 'Just … _stop_. All this, this fussing and hovering, I can't cope with it right now, OK?' Her voice trembled.

Tom gritted his teeth. Part of him longed to correct her statement but he didn't dare. The doctor had been very clear: _Given your history, Mrs Mulgrew, there's a fair chance your blood pressure will rise as time goes on. Try to rest as much as you can and avoid stress or upset…_

His worrying was only stressing her out and Christine was fragile enough as it was. He gave a terse nod and was rewarded when she relaxed, the tense line of her shoulders softening.

'So,' she went on in a reasonable approximation of her usual tone, 'what about you two, h'mm? Looking forward to a day in the great outdoors?'

Connor snorted. 'Yeah, 'cos getting lost in the wilderness—_again_— is absolutely my favourite thing to do.'

'Are you sure you want to do it, son?' Christine glanced at Tom; the first time she'd made willing eye contact for several days. 'I'm sure Tom could—'

'I'll be fine, Mum,' Connor interrupted, pushing his chair back. He squeezed her shoulder. 'Don't worry, yeah? 'Cos it's different this time, we'll have compasses and coats and emergency numbers an' all.'

Tom's heart sank as the boy left after a final pat. Christine's lips were pinched once more and he had to swallow before daring to speak.

'Christine—'

She held up a finger. 'Don't—even—_start_!'

Tom forgot his good resolutions.

'What, you'd rather we let you run yourself into the ground? Don't take this the wrong way, but you look like—'

'He means, wouldn't you rather take today off as well?' Imogen put in quickly.

Her mother-in-law scoffed. 'When the school's shorthanded? I don't think so.'

'There'll be fewer kids in,' Imogen ventured. 'They won't need as many teachers, they could do without you.'

Christine stared at her before shocking them both with explosive, shoulder-wracking sobs.

'I—I have to go,' Imogen stammered, nearly running in her haste to leave, while Tom tried to work out what to do. Christine never cried like this, she usually wept in a quiet, strangled fashion that never failed to break his heart.

He circled the table to hunker next to her, waiting for the storm to die, and a memory tickled: Chlo's wild mood swings with Izzie. The recollection made him feel better. If this was just hormones he knew how to deal with it, all he had to do was wait.

Accordingly, once she'd calmed he was ready with a hanky and a smile. 'Better now?'

She stiffened. 'I'm not a child, Tom.'

His smile faded. ''Course not. I only meant—'

'You're still doing it! You're… you're being too _nice_!' He blinked and she moved to lean against the breakfast bar, eyes shooting daggers. 'You're being too kind, too understanding, too tolerant… always checking if I'm tired or hungry and do I need anything—'

'I'm just trying to look after you!' It was a struggle to stay calm, but the memory of the doctor's words meant that he must.

'I don't _need_ to be looked after!'

He had to clamp his mouth shut; it would be too easy to fling those words back in her face when Connor's entire childhood was testimony to the lie.

'Maybe you don't, but the baby does,' he said as gently as he could.

She stared at him for a long moment, the stiffness melting into something that he only belatedly recognised as hurt.

'Well, thanks for that. Thanks for showing your true colours at last, Tom Clarkson. You might love me, but you sure as hell don't trust me. And why would you, h'mm? After all, who in their right mind would trust an _alcoholic_?'

She spat the last word before turning on her heel, the door closing with careful quiet behind her. Tom placed his elbows on the chair he was still kneeling before and rested his head on his hands. There was no point in going after her, she wouldn't listen, and he didn't want to inflict yet another argument on the kids. It was clear Christine needed some space and if that was what she wanted … He rose and went for his coat, shrugging into it and reaching for his car keys. It was after half seven and he'd promised Simon he'd be in early to finish the last-minute prep for the survival training. Just for this morning he'd go in alone.

* * *

**Barry Household, 7.20am**

* * *

Loud banging on her bedroom door threw Kacey out of a deep sleep with such violence that she lay gasping, her heart galloping like a thoroughbred on the tracks. Her skin prickled as the blood raced through her veins, making her uncomfortably aware of the workings of her own body—as if she was an outsider even there.

The door swung open and her sister appeared, a plate of toast in one hand and a mug of something hot in the other, the steam rising like a lazy genie exiting a lamp.

'Aren't you up _yet_?' Dynasty demanded, setting plate and mug on the bedside table. She looked ready to go, the lengths of glossy red-brown tied back in a short ponytail. 'Get a move on, kiddo, we've to be in school just after eight, Mr Lowsley said.'

Kacey's mouth was so dry that she wondered whether speaking would crack the delicate tissues, and it was a moment before she was able to form the words. 'I'm not goin', I've changed me mind, Dyn.'

'What?' Dynasty dropped on the bed. 'Why?'

'I'm not feelin' so good.'

Her sister peered at her, one hand going to brush over Kacey's forehead, and the younger girl twitched away—but it was too late. Dynasty was straightening, her eyes narrowing with suspicion, and Kacey's heart sank with the certain knowledge that her body had betrayed her yet again.

'Nice one, but it's no good. You're cool as ice, an' me an' you know you're always dead feverish when you're sick.' Dynasty rose, turning to strip the bed in a single movement. 'Come on now, start shiftin'! I'm not givin' Lowsley a chance to give me team to Louisa Fox!'

Even with thick woolly PJs on Kacey's teeth were chattering. ''E w-wouldn't, you're Head Girl an' she's not even a p-prefect!'

'Yeah, but she's done this before, hasn't she? Done Duke of Edinburgh an' all.'

'Dyn—'

'Aw babe, _please_? For _me_? I need someone on my side, my team's the worst of the lot. Think of it, Louisa, Rhiannon, Darren, Shaz, Lisa _and_ a whole gang of Year 10s who haven't got a working brain between 'em!'

'R-rhiannon's sound,' Kacey protested, sitting up slowly. 'She'd 'elp.'

Dynasty huffed. 'We're gonna be goin' up hills, Munch. D'you seriously think Rhiannon'll be any good to anyone but herself?'

Kacey drew her knees to her chest in a futile attempt to stop the shivers. 'I told yer, don't call us Munch.' The little flare of defiance put some heart into her and she added, 'Yer wastin' yer time, I'm _not goin_'.'

The older girl stared, her lips going thin. 'Right.' She stalked to the door, every line radiating annoyance, and glanced back over her shoulder. 'Stupid me, thinkin' you'd want to help us out, eh? So much for _family_!'

The slam with which she ended rattled through the floorboards and vibrated up Kacey's bedframe; she thought even the windows shook. She heard her mother's protest and Dynasty's furious answering yell, and a hard lump settled in her throat.

It was no good. There was no point in trying to do anything for herself. She was the least important person in the family, the one who was nothing, it was stupid and selfish of her to even _consider_ not going on the trip when it meant so much to Dynasty. Her bones seemed to creak as she moved and when she pushed herself to her feet she had to grab onto the spikes of her headboard as everything went a bit funny, but she pushed herself on through the motions of getting ready for the day.

When there was only her trainers to don Kacey sank down on the bed, dull eyes moving to rest on the tea and toast Dynasty had provided. Another shiver ran through her and she reached for the mug, momentarily pleased to see that her sister had at least remembered her new preference for black tea. It was strong and scorching and and an illusion of strength rushed through her, hand in hand with the wave of heat that fleetingly engulfed her. It allowed her to reach across for the toast—only to drain away when she saw that it had been carefully made with only the merest hint of butter. Dynasty, _again_…

As penance she forced herself to chew all the way through one small triangle, each bite lying in a crusty lump in her stomach. At least at this time of the year there were plenty of hungry birds and that feeling of strength surged through her once more as she flaked the remainder of the toast out the window, leaving the plate adorned with nothing but crumbs. When she left the room she was grinning, her earlier weakness replaced by a sensation of euphoria. She was still in control and all was not lost; the few calories she'd absorbed with the toast would not withstand the rigours of the day ahead.

* * *

**Crush Hall, 8.15am**

* * *

'Lenny Brown and Darren Hughes!'

Christine kept her glare on full as the Year 10 boys turned unwillingly to face her, the latter's arms crossed over a suspicious bulge in his jacket.

She sighed. 'Hand it over, come on.'

Darren scowled. 'How, miss? You ain't got any hands.'

'Well, that's easily solved, isn't it?' she snapped. 'Lenny, take these books and run them up to my room.' It was a relief to get rid of the weight, but she'd never admit it. 'Not you, Darren. Do you think I came down with the last shower? The bottle you're trying to hide. _Now_!'

Darren's expression was very black as he handed the vodka over. 'What you gonna do with it, drink it?'

Christine looked at him. 'At least I'd be drinking legally, eh?' She shoved it into depths of her bag and indicated Darren's rucksack. 'I hope you haven't got any more stashed in there.'

'Aw, miss—'

'Just _open_ it, Darren. Unless you want to skip the trip?'

Sulkily he obeyed and she released him only when she was satisfied the rucksack contained nothing more toxic than a can of Red Bull and an inordinate amount of chocolate. Once he'd gone she turned and began a reluctant journey towards the staffroom, the knowledge of the vodka in her bag steadying her. She wasn't planning on drinking it—Tom and the kids to the contrary, she was neither stupid nor irresponsible—but the familiar heft of it made her feel safer.

She almost bumped into Tom in the door.

'Hey,' he greeted, his stance uncertain. 'Did you get me note? About leavin' early?'

'H'mm. Yeah, thanks for letting me know.'

'Didn't want you feeling abandoned,' he said, his grin tentative enough that she realised he'd genuinely worried about it.

'Not at all.' Her smile felt false. She gestured at the door. 'Um, the briefing—?'

'Oh.' He moved to give her access. 'Simon's already started, I'm just getting the kids together in the hall.'

She nodded understanding. 'You might want to check their bags for contraband.'

Tom's answering grin was more natural. 'Already ahead of you on that one. I'll, uh, I'll go.' He hesitated before leaning in to kiss her cheek quickly. 'Catch you later?'

'Sure.' She watched him walk down the corridor and something made her call, 'Tom!'

He turned.

'I'm… Um, I'm sorry. For the past few days.' A little voice inside said, _give him the vodka_ but she ignored it. 'I was out of order.'

'No problem.' He started walking backwards. 'You can make it up to me later, eh?'

A passing Year 9 did a double take. 'Ew. Sir, miss, get a room!'

Christine and Tom spoke as one. '_Cooler_!'

The Year 9 obeyed, grumbling, and when Christine turned back to the staffroom door she found that her mood had lightened. She was smiling as she entered in time to hear Simon say, 'Right, just a reminder that we've lost various members of Years 10, 11 and 12 today as they're all out on their survival training. Similarly, Years 7, 8, and 9 are going out in rotating groups with Audrey and Maggie to have a go at foraging. Staff-wise, I need volunteers to cover for those two, Mika, Sue and Nikki for the day. Any takers?'

'He's stark starin' mad,' Maggie whispered to Christine as she took her usual seat. 'He's sendin' _Sue Spark_ on that trip?'

'Give her a chance.' Christine carefully lowered her bag to floor with due care for the glass bottle inside. 'It could be good for her, allow her to build relationships with the kids out of school. That can only help, can't it?'

'Huh.' Maggie shifted in her seat. 'Let's see. Darren Hughes, Lisa Brown, Shaznay Montrose, Kacey Barry, Louisa Fox … none of 'em are Sue's biggest fans, are they? There'll be trouble there, flower, I'd put money on it!'

'Let's hope you're wrong, h'mm?' Christine surveyed the room. 'Where's Sue?'

'Tom sent her on to the hall. He's been dead good to 'er, Christine. She were all over the place 'til he took her in hand. She seems happier this morning.'

'Does she.' Christine's lips pursed. 'And where was Simon during all this?'

'He's moved out,' the older woman muttered as the subject of their conversation continued droning. 'They're not havin' anything to do with each other. And your Tom's Mika, she's well in there.'

Christine groaned. 'Great. Just _great_.'

'Never mind them.' Maggie patted her arm. 'How are you, eh? Had us all dead worried, you did.'

Christine's good mood dissipated with stunning suddenness, sending her swooping back into the confused emotional mire she'd so recently escaped.

'So Tom's told you? What the doctor said?' She couldn't prevent the ice from creeping into her tone and Maggie's face fell.

'Aw, don't be mad at him. I made him tell us, he was looking so worked up when you were off—here, where're you off to?'

'Away!' Christine snapped, snatching up her bag. 'And for future reference, Maggie, if there's anything you want to know, I'd appreciate it if you'd ask me directly, OK?'

She stalked out of the staffroom, her fingers repetitively tapping on the strap of her bag as she tried to steel herself against the old yearning thrumming in her blood.

* * *

_**TBC!**_

* * *

_So… here's the thing. I know what's gonna happen over the next few episodes but certain details are still in flux. My question is: do people want to see Sue back for the third story in the trilogy? The answer could affect aspects of the next chapters, so it'd be great if you'd let me know ASAP what you prefer—and I do mean ASAP or you'll have to wait for the next bit… _

_Next time: Christine struggles, Sue makes a discovery, and Kacey's once again the target of bullying, with dangerous results…_


	31. Episode 8-2

_These next bits have been planned for a while, so hopefully they'll come fairly quickly from here on in. Whether you think that's a good thing or a bad thing is probably dependent on how soon you want this to end!_

_Reviews, then… _

_**Guest**__: Here you go!_

_**Paisley**__: It looks like Sue will be coming back! Kacey's stuff pretty much comes to a head here, and the Tomstine (no, autocorrect, I do not mean 'tombstone', thank you!) is also about to kick off. _

_**Niamhemiliee**__: Take it you don't like Sue, then!_

_**Loulouberry**__: H'mm. Sue supporting Christine? That might be pushing it a bit but your comment has given me an idea, so watch this space for a variation thereof!_

_**The whole world**__: *g* OK, OK…_

_**Lori**__: Yup, the plan is to finish this, get those updates done to _Piper_—and get stuck into the third part once WR has come to an end on TV. Unless inspiration for the whole summer term strikes sooner, of course! However, the break gives me time to focus on other things and that in itself can generate new ideas. As for this story, there's still around 40,00 words to go, maybe more, so it's not finishing any time soon!_

_**AmyOncer**__: You really do like Sue! I'm not sure I'd go as far as calling her lovely (when even the actress who plays her describes her as 'horrible' you've gotta wonder) but I hope I've made her sympathetic— or at least more sympathetic than she can be on the show. _

* * *

**NB: ED TRIGGER WARNING**

* * *

**Mrs Mulgrew's room, 9.35am**

* * *

It was quiet. Too quiet. Instead of being filled with the rustles, bangs and murmurs that attended even the best behaved of classes it was emptily still, jarring Christine's already strained nerves and distracting her from the task of marking Year 9's homework.

She'd known from the start of this baby thing with Tom that medical appointments would be an issue, but she'd told herself—conned herself into believing—that after nearly twenty years it would be fine. Her relationship with her son and daughter-in-law was stable, she was happier than she'd ever been, she was carrying a child for a man that she loved desperately…. She'd determined to leave her past where it belonged but she hadn't anticipated the wave of sheer brain-frying gut-churning _terror_ that had surged through her when Tom so casually announced the doctor's appointment the week before. In the end she'd gone because she was tired of feeling anxious eyes on her during every waking moment, and she'd hoped that the doctor would send them on their way with a few words of reassurance that would give her some respite.

And true, it had _almost_ happened that way.

Despite being the same doctor who'd treated her for alcoholic hepatitis nearly eighteen months previously, the GP had generally been optimistic once she'd told him that she'd been sober for more than a year. Alcoholism and alcoholic hepatitis aside, she was in good health, he'd agreed.

Then Tom—to whom the news of the ALD had come as a shock—had asked what her risks were, all things considered.

Christine closed her eyes as the doctor's litany repeated for the hundredth time in her brain. She'd had high blood pressure before, the doctor had noted; she would very probably experience it again, and that together with her age made her a candidate for pre-eclampsia. An already scarred liver would predispose her to pregnancy related liver ailments. In addition there were the usual risks for 'elderly' mothers: Down's syndrome, various chromosomal abnormalities, gestational diabetes, miscarriage, premature delivery, stillbirth—!

By the time he'd ended Tom had looked worse than Christine felt, his hand on hers tightening to the point where she could think of nothing but the crushing pain in her fingers; it had taken several days for the bruises to fade. Finally, the doctor had lectured her on alcohol, stressing that she must not under any circumstances touch even a little during her pregnancy. Once again, he hadn't stinted on the possible consequences… Afterwards, she'd had to run to the toilets to be sick, this time from guilt and fear as she remembered those glasses of vodka at three in the morning, and she could tell from Tom's silence on their way home that he too was remembering.

Which was why he was hovering now, she thought with some bitterness. She loved him and would do anything to keep him, that was why she'd apologised, but his lack of trust had cut deeply, making her shrink from handing over Darren's bottle. Whether he intended it or not she knew he'd look from her to the bottle, instinctively trying to gauge whether it had been opened, whether even a drop had gone. Last week he'd said his main concern was for her—but in the wake of the doctor's comments she couldn't help wondering if his priorities had changed. The simple suspicion of it left a barbed wound, poisoning her contentment.

A child's handwriting danced before her eyes as she tried to think of what to do. They couldn't live for the next six and a half months like this—or she couldn't, the mere thought of it had her longing to down the contents of Darren's bottle in one fell swoop. Somehow Tom had to be convinced that she could be trusted with her own health and that of their child—_and_ still do her job.

* * *

**Base Camp, 10.00am**

* * *

'Everyone ready?' Miss Boston barked at the large group of Years 10, 11 and 12 ranged before her. Sue's lips twisted as she found herself wishing she'd joined Cadets at school. Her life would be so much easier if _she_ could summon that same effortless authority. 'Dynasty, Jack?'

Connor Mulgrew raised his hand and the English teacher nodded. 'Go ahead.'

'I was just thinkin', could I switch teams?' Sue saw Imogen squeeze his hand and realised this was something they'd discussed.

Nikki Boston's eyebrows rose. 'Bit late, isn't it?'

'Aw, please miss, let him,' Dynasty put in, bouncing on her heels. ''S'only me an' Louisa with this lot, I could do with more sixth years—'

'And I could do without him hoverin' over me shoulder,' Jack added with grin and a clap of Connor's back. 'It's no skin off my nose, miss.'

Nikki sighed. 'Fine, please yourselves. Connor.' She jerked her head towards Dynasty's team and the boy moved. 'Everyone else happy where they are?'

A mumbled chorus indicated that no-one else wished to move and Miss Boston gave a brisk nod and glanced at her watch. 'Excellent. Right, you know the score. It's after ten now. You've got three hours to make it to the finish line—and if you want lunch I suggest you don't hang about, eh?' She grinned wolfishly and the kids grinned back. 'Last checks then. Everyone's handed in their mobiles?'

A murmur rose.

'Good, this is to help you lot survive without modern inconveniences, there's no point in this exercise if you're all equipped with GPS and 3G and Google Maps giving you blow-by-blow directions. Team leaders, you've got the maps and emergency phones Miss Spark gave you?'

'Right here, miss,' Dynasty said, showing hers, while Jack simply clapped his rucksack. Sue forced a bright smile at the pair as Nikki looked at her.

'And they're in good order, Miss Spark?'

'Yep, I put the numbers in just as you asked. They've got emergency services, school's number, and numbers for all of us.' She gestured towards the rest of the staff, and Nikki nodded and returned to her audience.

'Remember, this is _not a race_. There is _no_ prize at the end—unless you count the barbecue. There is no need to rush. Don't take any risks, take your time and and work together, no-one should be charging ahead and no-one should be left behind. You've all got basic first aid training and you know where we are if you need us. Most importantly, enjoy it!' She lifted her whistle to her lips and blew hard. 'Go!'

The kids wasted no time in obeying and before long Sue found herself alone with Nikki Boston and Mika Aspinall. She'd never been close to the former and as for the latter… her throat closed and she bit into her lip as she bent forward to lift her own rucksack, relieved that her pony-tail would swing forward to hide her face.

Nikki led them forward, setting a steady pace. Mika kept up easily, snatched lines of casual chat drifting to Sue as she laboured up the slopes behind them.

'…You and Simon?' she heard Nikki ask.

Mika's laugh tinkled back. 'You noticed that?'

'Everyone's noticed it.' Nikki's tone was bone dry. 'Look, it's none of my business but… you're in my department and you're a student. Having a fling with your head teacher? That's a really, _really_ bad plan.'

'It's just a bit of fun,' Mika returned defensively. 'It's not like it's serious or anything—'

Sue's head ducked and silent tears leaked from her eyes. _Not serious_… She and Simon had been serious, or so she'd thought. But now she doubted it, how could he have moved from contemplating marriage with her to … 'a bit of fun' so swiftly?

'You're lucky Tom and Christine have been distracted this past week or so,' Nikki was saying and Sue's head lifted as she edged closer. 'Christine'd come down on you like a load of bricks and as for Tom…' She whistled. 'He would _not_ be impressed that you're jeopardising your career like this.'

'Isn't that an exaggeration?' Mika fired back. 'Term's nearly over, what difference is it gonna make?'

'This is Waterloo Road, remember? Term isn't over 'til it's over. There's the best part of three weeks to go and Simon will need to sign off on your forms—'

Mika tossed her head. 'Like you said, it's none of your business.' She fell out of step with Nikki and dropped back next to Sue before the Science teacher was ready.

They stomped along in silence for several moments, but Sue could not contain herself.

'I heard what Nikki said,' she blurted.

The PGCE student darted an unfriendly look at the older woman's back. 'She's a nosy cow, what's it to her?'

'Is it true?' Sue demanded, choking the words out. 'You and Simon—?' She couldn't finish.

Mika glanced at her. 'That can't come as a surprise, everyone knew you were on the rocks. It's just a bit of fun for me and for him…' She shrugged. 'Rebound, probably.'

Sue had to clear her throat before she could say, 'Simon doesn't do a—a bit of fun.'

Mika sent her a wink. 'Oh yes he does, believe me.'

Sue was trembling. How could Mika be so casual, so _cavalier_ about it? As if it didn't matter that Sue and Simon had made a commitment to each other, as if it didn't matter that the carefully placed bricks of Sue's life had come tumbling down around her ears in a matter of days. A mental image of Mika and Simon together flashed behind her eyes, searing itself into a false memory.

'I heard what Nikki said,' she repeated. 'All of it. Break it off with Simon, Mika—or I'm—I'm telling Tom and Christine.'

Mika laughed. 'What makes you think they'd believe _you_? When we all know how messed up you are?' She tossed her head again and ploughed on ahead, leaving Sue shaking with the need for revenge.

* * *

**In the hills, 11.45am**

* * *

'Can we stop? Please? Me legs are hurtin' somethin' _awful_!' Shaznay whinged for the fifth time in twenty minutes.

Kacey glanced up, hoping Dynasty would agree. It'd been a struggle getting this far and now her mouth was dry and her heart felt like it would explode out of her chest.

Connor shrugged. 'May as well. A swig of that soup Maggie gave us'll warm us nicely, won't it, Kace?'

Her answer was a strained smile. She didn't have soup; she'd poured it down some ditch or other whilst on a 'toilet' break.

Dynasty was frowning at her map. She turned towards the tail of stragglers, waving them forward. 'Come on, you slackers. Let's just get to the top of this hill, eh, an' then we'll stop. Deal?'

They grumbled and complained, but Dynasty got her own way—no surprise there, Kacey thought—and they continued to toil up the near perpendicular hill of mud they were trying to scale. Every step seemed just a little harder than the previous one, the gloop beneath their feet clinging to the soles of their boots and releasing them reluctantly. Kacey slipped more than once and would have fallen if it wasn't for Connor, who grabbed her every time.

'Thanks, mate,' she gasped as he pulled her up a final incline and onto the plateau where they were stopping. 'I'd have…. I'd have… been all the way… down… if it wasn't for you.'

Connor was still holding her, his brow furrowed with concern. 'You OK? You don't look too good.'

'Yeah… just winded,' Kacey wheezed, wishing that the tight band around her chest would ease.

He squeezed her shoulders in a brotherly fashion. 'That's it. Man up, as Kev would say.'

She tilted her head. ''Course I will. I'm just—' She pointed to a small clearing behind her and Connor nodded, seeming to know that she needed some time alone.

Her feet scuffed the ground, ripping the grass out of the sodden soil. It took so much effort simply to move; at one point she had to brace herself against a tree, turning so that the broadness of it supported her. She closed her eyes and tried to calm her excited pulse. At least if she felt this crap she must have succeeded in really running herself down, she'd be well into burning fat by now. A smile quirked her lips as she imagined it, all the fat cells shrieking at her determination to extinguish them forever—

'There y'are,' a hard voice said and Kacey's eyes popped open. 'We've been lookin' for ye.'

It was Lisa Brown, her arms crossed. Behind her was Darren and next to him stood Shaznay, who seemed to be lazily chewing a piece of gum—but her watchful eyes told a different story.

Kacey swallowed, any moisture remaining in her mouth evaporating. 'W-why?'

'I think you know why, pet,' Lisa continued, her tone making a mockery of the endearment. 'Think we'd forget about it, did you? What you did to him?'

'Wha—'

'The photo,' Shaznay supplied, folding her own arms so that she formed a mirror image to Lisa. 'The one _you_ said that Darren wrote on when he never!'

Kacey stepped away from the tree, moving backwards towards the open space and the cusp of the hill. 'I—I never,' she stammered. 'I never said he did anythin', that was just McFall gettin' the wind up!'

'But you didn't correct her either!' Lisa took a step forward and Kacey moved too, as if they were in some dance. 'You were happy for 'im to take the rap. McFall's made our lives a misery ever since.'

'Yeah, used to be able to get forty winks in history,' Darren put in mournfully. 'Catch up on me sleep, like.'

Kacey blinked, confused. 'But—'

'Shut it, Daz,' Lisa ordered. 'Leave it to me, eh? I know what I'm doin'.'

He shoved his hands deep in his pockets and scowled. 'Well, do it then. Unless you 'aven't got a plan at all an' you've just been mouthin' off.'

Lisa pivoted on one booted heel. 'Don't you worry, I've got this'un all sized up.' She turned back to Kacey. ''Cos our Kace'—she mocked the Barrys' Liverpudlian accent—'thought she'd got away with it.'

'What d'you mean?' Kacey gasped, taking another step back.

Lisa followed. 'It's the only thing that makes sense. McFall said no-one else had a chance to get anywhere near them photos an' we know Darren didn't do it. So if he didn't do it, an' Year 8 didn't do it, an' I bet _McFall_ didn't do it…' Her voice trailed off.

The band of steel around Kacey's ribs tightened. 'I—'

'Hold on,' Darren blurted, his eyes going very round as he looked from Lisa to Kacey. 'You sayin' she did it? That's daft, that is!'

Lisa pursed her lips. 'Yeah. Well?' she barked at Kacey. 'Am I right?'

Kacey felt as if her entire body was threatening to dissolve, to turn to liquid and flow down the hill … For a moment she wished she could.

'Is she right?' Darren demanded, coming to stick his face in hers. His breath reeked of sugary soft drink and cheap chocolate, and Kacey's gorge rose. '_Did_ you write them things on your own photo?'

She had to take another step back. If she didn't she'd spew all over him. 'Yeah,' she gasped. 'I, I'm dead s-sorry, I d-didn't mean—'

'_You_ wrote them things?' Darren repeated incredulously, once more coming too close. 'That…that's…' His voice failed him for a moment before he jabbed her hard with a sharp forefinger. 'That's well messed up. You need 'elp!'

The small impact of the jab was the final straw. Kacey tried to move leaden feet in an effort to get away and stumbled over a log hiding in the grass. Already unsteady to begin with, she fell over it—and the angle of the slope kept her falling, agony lancing through her as the ground bombarded her from all sides… until finally darkness came.

* * *

_**Next Time:**__ Kacey's condition deteriorates as the weather turns, making it essential that they get help quickly… but that proves easier said than done. _

_**Please don't forget to tell me what you think!**_


	32. Episode 8-3

_Thank you to everyone who's reviewed! Always appreciated! Special thanks must also go to __**Lori**__, __**Paisley**__, and __**Niamhemilee**__ for their reviews on _Paying the Piper,_ which Tomstine fans might like to know has also been updated._

_**Guest**__ [and __**Guest**__, if you're different people ;)] : Here you go! _

_**Lori**__: This'll probably run until early Feb, I think. By which time WR on TV will be halfway through the last run :(. Impressed at your typing with false nails, btw…!_

_**Paisley**__: *faints* You felt sorry for Sue?! LOL! Yeah, the plan was always that Mika would turn a bit off. I find her a rather slippery character in some ways and she always believes she's right… People can justify a good deal when they're convinced they're in the right. _

_**Coz**__: Thanks for reviewing and here you are!_

_**Niamhemilee**__: I agree Sue's a hypocrite. However, I did find myself actually sort of liking her a bit in that last episode. I liked the fact that she took on board what George said. I think she's always spent her life as an appendage of some man or other (her dad, various partners) and that she could become stronger alone. Still confused as to whether she'll be back next 'term' or not though. _

* * *

**In the hills, 12.45pm**

* * *

'Can I ask you something?'

Louisa looked up from unwrapping her snack bar to see Connor Mulgrew. One corner of her mouth turned up. 'Of course, but won't you get in trouble?' She nodded towards Dynasty, who seemed to be yelling at a group of Year 10s. 'Aren't you prefects supposed to be keeping that lot in order?'

Connor quirked a grin and settled on the log beside her. Against all the odds, they'd developed a friendship of sorts over the past week, drawn together by Louisa's discovery of her mother's addiction and their shared experience of having a deaf significant other.

He took out his own snack bar. 'Nope. Dyn and Rhiannon are much better at it than me.' He sighed. 'Shouldn't even be a prefect, I'm crap at it. Never wanted it but Mum strong-armed me into it. And now, thanks to Kev, I'm s'posed to be Head Boy until he's fit.' He snorted. 'Some Head Boy I make!'

Louisa shifted, suddenly uncomfortable with this discussion of prefectship. 'What did you want to ask?'

The dark look on Connor's face fled. 'Oh, yeah.' He scratched at his jaw, looking awkward. 'Er, d'you remember that row me and Imogen had in Mum's class during Simon's no-hands thing?'

Louisa nodded.

'Well… Imogen accused me of not bein' interested in signing and—and I just want to prove her wrong, y'know?'

A slow smile spread across Louisa's face. 'So you want me to teach you?'

'Would you? I know we haven't exactly been mates—'

'I'd love to,' Louisa interrupted. 'Really. I know I've … I've been a bitch this term. I want to make amends, I—' She broke off as a piercing scream shattered the plateau's peace.

Connor was already on his feet. 'That sounded like Shaznay.' He stilled, his features tightening. 'Shit, _Kacey_—' and he was off, leaving Louisa to follow more hesitantly.

'What's goin' on?' Connor demanded as they reached a clearing beyond the trees. 'Where's Kacey?'

Shaznay turned a tear-streaked face to them. 'She's down there, she just went back an'—an' tripped over sommat and bam, she was away… She rolled ever so far an' then she just _stopped_, all limp, like—'

'Where's Lisa and Darren?' Connor's voice was quiet but there was an undertone that rippled the hairs on the back of Louisa's neck.

Shaznay's lashes dropped, hiding her eyes. 'Down there, Dynasty made them go wiv 'er.'

Louisa glanced at Connor. His jaw was tight. 'Shaz. Get over there, find Rhiannon. Tell her to get everyone together and wait.' He glanced at Louisa. 'D'you want—'

'I'm coming with you,' she put in quickly. 'I've done advanced first aid.'

His response was a simple nod before heading towards the edge of clearing. Louisa followed, her heart jumping into her mouth when she saw how the hill dropped away, the gradient subtle but steep. The grass was like glass from the recent rain and they slid and stumbled their way towards Dynasty, whose bright red coat made her instantly identifiable.

'What's wrong with her?' Connor panted as they reached her. 'How badly is she hurt?'

Dynasty didn't seem to hear. She was bending over her sister, begging the younger girl to open her eyes and speak to her.

'Lisa!' Connor barked. 'What's wrong with her?'

The Year 10 girl looked scared. 'I—I dunno.'

Connor took a step forward. 'I sent yous over 'cause I thought you were bein' nice, more fool me. What did you do to her?'

'I—' Lisa shook her head, her arms wrapping tightly about her thin body.

'Connor!' Dynasty turned to them, looking more distraught than Louisa had ever seen her. 'Ignore 'er, _please_. Come 'ere and 'ave a look, she won't wake up, she's dead white, I can't feel her pulse!'

Connor shook his head. 'Dyn, I—' His gaze fell on Louisa and he reached out to grab her. 'Lulu'll know what to do, she's got more first aid training than any of us.'

Louisa knelt by Kacey's other side, facing Dynasty. The Head Girl tensed, but she said nothing as Louisa began the methodical checks she'd been taught.

'She's got a pulse, but it's weak and super-fast,' Louisa said at last, looking up. 'She's cold, too. Have we got blankets in that rucksack of yours?'

Dynasty sniffed and shook her head. 'You must be jokin', it's just basic first aid. Miss Spark said we wouldn't need any m-more 'cause we—we never expected _this_ …'

'So much for survival training,' Louisa snapped as she shrugged out of her coat. 'The important thing is, we have to keep her warm—'

'Where's she hurt?' Connor asked again.

Louisa's hands were running up and down Kacey's form, trying to find some indication of injury.

'There's no external bleeding that I can see,' she muttered. 'Unless there's internal—' She glanced up in time to see Dynasty lose colour. 'It might not be that, but… Look, get those phones of Sue's and call the staff? One way or another we need help.' Her hands were still moving, feeling their way down Kacey's legs. She paused at the right ankle.

'What is it?' Dynasty sounded frantic.

Louisa's mouth had turned dry as her fingers began to probe with clear purpose. She didn't like this, Kacey was too pale, her pulse too thready, her skin too clammily cold …

'Come on, you gotta give me somethin' here!' Dynasty was pleading. ''As she broken it?'

'She's done _something_,' Louisa said grimly. 'I don't want to take the boot off to check further and risk making it worse.' She shivered, suddenly aware of the loss of her coat and the dampness in the air. 'We need to get off this bloody hill, it feels like it's going to rain.'

'Who cares about the stupid weather?' Dynasty spat. 'If that's all you can say—'

'Dyn, shut up and listen,' Connor interrupted, his tone sharp. His eyes were very grave as he met Louisa's. 'It's bad, isn't it.'

She nodded, her teeth starting to chatter. She was wearing several layers under the fleece she'd worn beneath her coat, but the wind cut through them with the ease of a hot knife through butter.

'I'm worried,' she blurted. 'A broken ankle's bad enough out here when we're so exposed, but…' She swallowed against the sick realisation of responsibility. 'That isn't what's so dangerous. I think she's going into shock, I don't like her pulse, she's far too cold … I'm deadly serious, Dynasty. If you don't phone for help _now_ she could die!'

* * *

**Finishing Line, 1.05pm**

* * *

'Hey, will you look at this!' To Sue, Nikki Boston sounded disgustingly energetic and ebullient. Didn't the woman ever tire? Sue herself was panting and slick from sweat, every muscle burning in protest. 'I'm impressed, you lot. Didn't expect you to beat us here!'

Imogen Mulgrew's eyes were sparkling. 'Yeah? Well, we had to show Dynasty and Connor they can't have it all their own way, they were dead sure they were gonna win.'

'So you decided to show them, eh?' Nikki's grin split her face as she shrugged out of her rucksack.

Imogen's pointed chin lifted. 'It wasn't just me, it was Jack too.'

'I did the nagging from the back while Gen got 'em up the hills,' Jack supplied, and Nikki laughed.

'Excellent team work, both of you.' She turned to Sue and Mika. 'Shall we get this barbecue on?'

Sue nodded in agreement and moved with Mika towards a flattish spot of ground. They worked in silence to prepare the area for a fire, and it was only when the flames had started to lick around the kindling that Mika spoke—and even then it was simply to prod Sue into putting the sausages on.

Sue's lips pinched as she obeyed. She knew she was in trouble after the week before—and clearly Mika knew _how_ much trouble—but it grated to be treated like a child by a student teacher who was nearly four years her junior. Sue had spent years as a Girl Guide, she'd done her Duke of Edinburgh, she'd been a flight attendant… She might be lacking as a teacher but her outdoor cooking and survival skills were sound. Fortunately, Nikki called the other woman away and Sue heaved a sigh of relief and concentrated on her sausages, turning them carefully to ensure they were cooked all the way through. It was cold and damp and they were a good two hours plus walk away from the coaches… A go of food poisoning was the last thing they needed.

'D'you need a hand?' a soft voice asked and she glanced up, startled.

Imogen smiled. 'I could put the plates out.'

Sue returned it, albeit stiffly. 'Thanks. They're… they're in my bag. In a packet.'

Imogen nodded and retrieved them, using small white teeth to tear open the plastic shrink wrap. The sausages were sizzling, spitting out heat and an appetising smell that made Sue's mouth water.

'I was wondering, have yous heard from Connor or Dynasty?'

Sue looked up, frowning.

'What?'

'The other team,' the girl said, as if Sue didn't know who they were. 'They're late. Dyn's a slave driver, she hates comin' second… They should've been here.'

'I'm sure they'll be fine,' Sue said absently, flipping a sausage.

'Can you phone them?'

Sue's brows came together at her persistence. 'Really, Imogen—'

'Something's happened, miss. I know it has.' The younger woman pressed her stomach. 'I can feel it, _here_.'

Sue sighed in exasperation. 'My phone is in my bag. Hand it over.' She might as well, she thought. The sausages were practically done.

Imogen's gaze was unnerving as Sue began to scroll through her contacts for the numbers she'd put into the kids' phones. Sure enough, Dynasty's came up first. Sue hit it.

'Put it on loudspeaker,' Imogen insisted. 'I want to hear they're OK.'

Sue blew out a second sigh, but did so. The phone rang once before going to voicemail, a tinny voice suggesting that they leave a message after the beep.

'They're not answering,' she said unnecessarily. 'They must be all right if they haven't tried to contact us.'

'Or the phone's dead.' The sixth former's green eyes were large and unblinking.

Sue's heart skipped a beat as a memory flashed. Herself, entering the numbers and noting that in several cases the battery was very low. She'd intended to put the phones on to charge, but Vix had phoned and she'd forgotten.

She licked her lips. 'Don't be absurd.' She gave a tinkling laugh that rang false even to her own ears. 'Go and tell Miss Boston this is ready.'

'Yeah.' Imogen's glance was contemplative. 'I'll ask _her_ to do something.'

Sue's chest tightened and she bit deep into her lip. Not _another_ mistake … A sausage exploded and she gulped on a half-sob, rearing away from the spittles of fat that jumped off the pan. She couldn't even do this right!

'I think you'd better take those off the heat before they become inedible,' Mika observed over her shoulder as Sue tensed. How much had the younger woman heard? 'Here's a plate,' Mika added, suiting the action to the word and the Science teacher could have wept with relief at the calm ordinariness of her tone. 'Come on, pile 'em high.'

She obeyed in silence, acutely aware of the other woman's blue gaze. The kids had not yet come running over; to all intents and purposes they were alone.

Mika leaned in.

'Let's not say any more about me and Simon. You know something about those phones not working, I saw your face.' Sue swallowed and Mika grinned. 'Forget to charge them, did you?'

'No!' It was true; she _had_ charged several—just not all, and possibly not enough.

'Yeah?' Mika reached across for Sue's rucksack and opened it. 'You've got these spares here. If I was to turn them on—'

Sue snatched it back. 'They'd work,' she asserted. She pulled out one mobile, it was marked with a dot of correction fluid. She knew without a doubt that _it_ was working, and proceeded to prove it with a touch to the power button. Sure enough, the phone came to life and Sue's quivering insides solidified. 'See?'

Mika wasn't convinced.

'I know what I saw. See here, Sue, if you've been negligent and those kids have to come to harm because of it … What if there's been an accident somewhere, or they're lost, look at that mist—'

Her voice receded as realisation hit, causing the old familiar band of panic to tighten about Sue's chest. Louisa was on Dynasty's team. If something had happened, if she never got to tell her daughter the truth—

Meanwhile, Mika was still talking.

'So here's the score. You've got something on me, I've got something on you, yeah? You keep quiet about me and Simon, and I'll do the same about this. The worse that'll happen to me is a slap on the wrist, but you're already in it to the eyeballs, you'd probably be struck off—'

All at once Sue found she did not care about saving the career she'd never wanted. Her dad could say what he liked, he could cut her off without a penny if he wanted, the only thing that mattered was knowing Louisa was safe. She left the sausages to look after themselves and ran with clumsy awkwardness towards Nikki.

'Did you get through?' she gasped as she reached the older woman.

'No, and I'm starting to think Imogen's right.' Nikki glanced at her watch. 'It's nearly half past. Dynasty knows she had to be here by now, her team will have had nothing to eat but that soup of Maggie's and it's a long walk back—' She shook her head, a line deepening between her strong brows. 'I'll try again, but with Connor or Rhiannon this time.'

Sue was conscious of Imogen almost vibrating with anxiety beside her as Nikki stabbed at her mobile. The other woman's frown intensified and Sue's tummy turned over.

'Nothing from Connor.' Nikki's tone was abrupt. 'Rhiannon…' She began to pace. 'Come _on_, Rhiannon…'

'Come _on_….' Imogen echoed.

Sue said nothing, her entire being focused on willing Rhiannon's phone to work, for that frown line to smooth between Nikki's brows, for her to smile and tell Rhiannon Salt to get her team's lazy butts in gear.

It did not happen. After several seemingly endless moments Nikki gave an explosive sigh.

'Still nothing.' She glanced at the sky. 'And that mist is thickening… I'm not waiting any longer, if we can't contact them or they can't contact us they're sitting ducks. I'm letting school know.'

A muffled sob came from Imogen and Sue felt like joining her; only pride kept her eyes dry.

Nikki put a hand through her hair and turned away, the metal trim on her mobile glinting as she raised it. 'Tom? Tom, it's me. Listen, mate, we've got a problem.'

* * *

**In the hills, 1.20pm**

* * *

Connor felt as if he couldn't breathe, his chest walls so rigid that he had to _think_ about this most basic of bodily functions, had to mechanically suck in air and release it again. He stumbled away from Dynasty and Louisa, one hand reaching for his own rucksack. As a prefect he'd been given a phone, Louisa had said time was of the essence, he could try to get help while the others were busy with Kacey… It took several attempts before his clumsy fingers freed the tricky clasp on his bag, giving him access to the contents within.

A log nearby provided a convenient seat and he sank onto it, one hand grasping the dumb-phone. It was off, but that wasn't such a surprise; after all, they were intended purely for emergency use. A fingernail was required to trigger the power switch, and Connor's heart was in his mouth as he waited for the phone to start.

And waited.

And _waited_.

It was several minutes before accepted what he was seeing, the plastic of the phone turning slippy as his hands went clammy. The phone was dead; there was no help to be gained there.

'Have you got through to anyone yet?' Louisa shouted from Kacey's side and he shook his head, needing to clear his throat before he could speak.

'I, I can't. It's not working.'

'What d'you mean?' Dynasty was beside him in three bounds, snatching the phone out of his hand. ''Course it's working, it's for emergency use, innit…' She was pushing and pushing at the power switch. 'Come on, come on, _come on_….'

'It's not workin', Dyn,' Connor insisted. 'I've tried that, I've been staring at it…' He swallowed. 'Try yours. Maybe mine's a dud.'

She stared at him, her eyes darkening. 'Yeah. Yeah, let's try it.' He had to help her undo the clasp of her own rucksack. 'Right.' She stabbed at the power button, her lower lip catching between her teeth, and when the phone lit up Connor's knees actually weakened from relief.

Louisa glanced up. 'Does it work?'

He gave a single nod and the fear twisting inside him sharpened when her shoulders slumped. It must be worse than Louisa was letting on…

Dynasty must also have seen. She flew to her sister's side, gasping 'She's worse?'

'She seems to be shutting down,' Louisa told them helplessly. 'I thought she was coming round a bit, but she's just went out… She's totally unresponsive, she's really pale, I can't get her warm and this—this _horrid_ Scottish weather isn't helping!'

Dynasty's lips were trembling. 'So what do I do? Who do I call? There's all them numbers, school, Boston, emergency services… Louisa, I can't think straight, I dunno what to do, someone's gotta tell me what to do!'

It was something of a shock for Connor to realise that he had the clearest head of the three of them. He reached forward to remove the phone from Dynasty's grasp.

'Ambulance,' he said definitively. He didn't look at Louisa for validation; this was the right thing to do, he knew it. The phone's backlight had died in the meantime and he moved a finger to wake it up—to no avail. He tried a second time, forcing the power button down in a fruitless attempt to summon that reassuring light … but none came.

Frustration surged through his blood and he flung the phone at the nearest tree with all his strength, smashing it in a shower of black plastic.

Dynasty leapt up. '_Connor_—!'

'It's not working, Dyn! The bloody battery's conked out, I bet Rhiannon's is a goner too.' He turned on Louisa. 'This is 'cause of your stupid aunt, you heard Boston—'

'Is Kacey gonna die?' someone said behind him and Connor whirled. Lisa Brown's pasty complexion looked greyer than ever, her eyes huge in her pinched face.

He couldn't speak. Frustration merged into blinding rage; all he could think was that this was Lisa's fault; if she wasn't such a bully none of this would have happened. Shaznay and Darren were idiots but neither had Lisa's talent for spotting weakness and gunning for it. He was about to tear into her when she beat him to it.

'If it's that's bad why ain't you phonin' 999?' The resumption of her customary cocky tone caught him on the raw.

'We can't,' he spat. 'Emergency phones are flat.'

Lisa's gaze turned furtive and Connor was on to her, suspicion prickling through him. 'Was it you? Did you get hold on those phones and drain their batteries for a laugh?'

Lisa was shaking her head. 'No, no I never—'

Her fear was palpable as she backed away and he gave a harsh laugh. 'Not so big now, are you. I'm tellin' you, if Kacey dies—' He couldn't continue.

'I have me mobile,' she blurted. 'Handed in me old one. It's in me bag, in one of them hidden pockets in the side.'

He snatched the rucksack from her before she could offer it and fumbled at the zips, hardly able to believe it. His throat tightened when his questing fingers found something cold and metallic and phone shaped … He pulled it out and dialled 999, his pulse roaring in his ears.

Several minutes later and it was done, help was on the way.

'How long will they be?' Dynasty asked. She was lying next to her sister, trying to warm her with her body's heat. Connor doubted it would work; he could see her shivering from where he stood. He was shivering himself; his own coat was part of the heap that covered Kacey and the surrounding air's dampness penetrated his bones.

'Dunno, they said they were sendin' the air ambulance.' He glanced at the sky. 'If they can find us, that mist's getting awful thick—'

Dynasty gave a muffled sob and it was Louisa said urgently, 'Phone Boston. Any help's better than none.'

Connor went to obey—and realised that he didn't have Miss Boston's number. Unsurprisingly, neither did anyone else. Nor could they remember the school's, and Louisa swore ignorance of Sue and Simon's.

'What about your mum?' Lisa suggested.

Connor tensed as the others relaxed. 'No.'

Dynasty sat up. 'Connor, you have to!'

'I can't!' he yelled, pushed nearly to breaking point by the competing pulls of conflicting demands. 'I _can't_, Dyn, Imogen told you what the doctor said!'

''E was talkin' _possibilities_, Connor!' This was Dynasty at her most shrill; her pitch made his brain vibrate within his skull. 'This is a definite! If Lulu's right Kacey's gonna _die_—'

'D'you think I don't know that?'

'Then phone Christine!' she screamed. 'Do it now!' He remained motionless and Dynasty scrambled to her feet. 'Give it us here, I'll do it meself—'

She tried to grab for it and he twisted away, taking advantage of his greater height to put the phone beyond her reach. Butterflies danced in his belly at the look of betrayal in her eyes; he felt as if a noose was tightening about his neck.

Damned if he did and damned if he didn't…

'Christine'll never forgive yer if you don't call,' Dynasty said, her shrillness turning to hair-raising quiet.

He expelled a shuddering breath, accepting the truth of her statement. 'I know. But I'll never forgive myself if it hurts the baby.'

'Connor, please.' Tears ran down Dynaasty's cheeks. 'Please. I've already lost me brother, I can't lose me wee sister… _Please_.'

Damned if he did and damned if he didn't, indeed.

'Fine,' he rasped, his throat aching from effort and the burning cold of the wind. 'But _I'm_ making the call, Dyn.'

She nodded, wrapping her arms around herself. 'Go on.' She watched as he hesitated halfway through keying the number in. 'D'you remember it?'

'Most of it.' He licked his lips; this was the easy way out. If he couldn't remember the number he couldn't be blamed, could he?

Dynasty craned her head so that she could see the screen. 'Yeah, you're nearly there.' She was eerily calm. 'Just another 505 at the end … yeah, that's it.'

And that _was_ it, the die was cast. Connor gave a strained smile and lifted the phone to his ear, his mouth turning dry as it began to ring.

* * *

**Next time: Waterloo Road's rescue attempt is endangered when Tom and Christine have their worst clash yet ...**

1\. Review. Please. Pretty please.

2\. I'm considering putting these stories up on A03/Archive of Our Own so that anyone who wishes to can download them in ebook form. Any interest?


	33. Episode 8-4

_**I hope everyone's had a fantastic Christmas and here's a little something for the last day of 2014!**_

_**Paisley**: Yeah, but leaving you on cliffs is half the fun! The staff were relaxed because as far as they knew Dynasty &amp; co were just a bit late._

_**Niamhemiliee**: Yup, there will definitely be a third story! I'm trying to decide whether to take a break once I finish here or whether to go straight on. The advantage of a break is that I might get inspiration from the final ten eps, but at the rate I'm going I might not finish this instalment much before WR ends anyway!_

_**Chantelucy**: Aw, thanks. Here you go!_

_**Guest**: Thanks, sorry for keeping you waiting._

_**Jessiekat89**: Yeah, Sue was careless, not malicious. As for her and Louisa… Wait and see!_

_**Lori**: Not much Tomstine here either, I'm afraid, but if it makes you feel better there's going to be loads coming up shortly. Ao3=Archive Of Our Own (thus the name) is a general fanfic/original fic/fanart/fanstuff archive. Unlike FFN it allows easy downloading of complete stories in a variety of formats. It doesn't have much of a Waterloo Road section but it'd be perfect for distributing these stories as e-books._

* * *

**Canteen, 1.40pm**

* * *

George was glumly rifling through his spuds and mince with a fork. The spuds were bland and the mince tasted … well, he wouldn't be surprised if someone had managed to adulterate it behind Maggie Budgen's back. All in all, he was half wishing he'd decided to risk the result of the kids' foraging if this was the 'safe' option of meat-and-two-veg.

'Mind if I sit here?'

His eyes flicked towards the speaker, the automatic scowl fading. 'If it was anyone else, I'd say yes. As it's you—'

Christine looked amused as she took the seat. 'I'm flattered. I think.' She lifted her spoon to her lips and George grimaced at the disturbingly brown gloop that rested there. It turned _his_ stomach; he marvelled that she could eat it, considering.

'So?' he enquired as she dug in for a second trip. 'It's edible?'

Her lips quivered. '_Ish_. It's OK, I've had worse.'

'Dare I ask what it's supposed to be?'

'Mushrooms, George. Mushroom risotto, to be precise. Can't you tell?'

He raised an eyebrow. 'From the great foraging expedition?' She nodded and he frowned. 'At the risk of sounding distressingly over-concerned, are you sure that's a good idea? Given your uh, current delicate condition?'

Now it was Christine's turn to raise her eyebrows, the fine line of them nearly vanishing beneath her fringe. 'Do I _look_ like a delicate flower?' She tutted. 'Come on, George. Don't you bail on me. I thought I could trust _you_ to be the one person who wouldn't treat me any differently. If there _was_ a risk I wouldn't touch this with a bargepole, Audrey and Maggie to the contrary.'

She swirled the gloop with her spoon and glanced up with the quick sparkling flash of hazel that drew him to her all those years ago. 'I'm sure it's safe enough, it's just not very … palatable.' She sighed. 'I wish Connor had been able to do the foraging and cooking, I'm sure he'd have enjoyed it a hell of a lot more than Simon's survival training.'

'And possibly produced something worth eating for everyone else,' George agreed morosely.

'H'mmm.' A line deepened between her brows and even he could guess the cause.

'Are you worried about him?'

Christine's mouth quivered. 'I always worry about him, it goes with the territory.'

George pointed his fork at her. 'And here you are, doing it all over again!'

He could have kicked himself when he saw her wince.

'Not exactly. Connor's… He's done more than his share of worrying over the years as well. He's seen things no kid should see. That's—that's not going to happen again, George. This baby's going to have a good childhood, he or she is going to have all the things Connor _should_ have had and didn't—' She broke off at a tinny ringing. 'Is that me or you?'

He sat back and folded his arms. 'It's almost certainly you, darling. I don't carry mine on me.'

She rolled her eyes while reaching for her phone. ''Course not. Who's this? I don't—Hello? Hello? … Connor! What are you phoning for, you're not supposed—'

Alarm raced through George when she drained milky-white, prompting him to lean forward in case she keeled over. 'Christine?'

She waved him into quiet. 'What? Tell me again. _Slowly_, son, slowly … OK. Right. And you've called emergency services? OK, good on you, you sit tight and I'll be with you—'

'Where is he?' George interrupted. 'Ask if the phone can give co-ordinates—'

Christine gave him a thumbs-up in response and did so, signing for him to get her something to write with. He obeyed, producing a pen from his jacket pocket and the folded remnants of someone's lines.

She began to scribble while still talking. 'Great, I've got that. I'm coming, son, so … just stay there, all of you, OK? Help is on it's way. One way or another we'll find you… Yes, yes, it's _fine_, just worry about yourselves. Connor, I've got to go. Yes. … I love you too.' She put the mobile down and began to rub her temples, an indication of stress George had learned to recognise.

'Christine?' he prompted, concern deepening. 'What's happened, where are they?'

She raised her eyes. 'It's Kacey, she's taken a really bad fall, they think she's broken her ankle and she … she doesn't seem too good.' The uncharacteristic catch in her voice horrified him almost as much as her report. 'They've called 999 but a mist is rolling in, they're cold and scared and alone …'

He tried to control the sick fear inside by taking refuge in levity. 'Christine, stop. You're turning this into a disaster movie—'

Perhaps it was the right thing to say after all. Her lips thinned into a straight line.

'I knew I could count on you to keep things in proportion,' she snapped, pushing her chair back and rising to her feet. 'Do me a favour and tell Tom and Simon what's going on, I have to go—'

He lunged for her before she'd moved more than three steps. 'Where are you going? You can't go yourself—'

She threw him off, glaring. 'He is my _son_, George!'

'I'll go, where are they, tell me and I'll leave right now—'

'No! They're my kids, my responsibility! Now I've just given you a job to do, will you go and do it!'

She turned on her heel and left, the sharp staccato of her steps loud in the stupefied quiet of the dining hall—and George relieved his feelings by kicking a chair across the room, provoking a suppressed squawk from an unfortunate Year 7 who had skip out its way in a hurry. At any other time he might have apologised, but he couldn't. There was no time, there were kids in danger and his best—perhaps his only—friend was throwing herself and her unborn child into it headlong, leaving him with nothing to do but obey orders and pray as as an old cynic like himself had never prayed before.

* * *

**Head's Office, 1.55pm**

* * *

'Christine's gone!'

Tom and Simon glanced up sharply. George Windsor was at the door, looking closer to distraught than either had ever seen him, his hands gripping the doorframe, and Tom shot to his feet.

'Gone? Gone _where_?'

'Connor phoned, Kacey Barry's in serious trouble, they think she's broken her ankle and she's ... from what Christine was able to tell me, it wasn't good.' Tom had to sit down at that while George continued at breakneck speed. 'The kids did have the sense to phone for an ambulance but there's a mist dropping, they're not sure how easy they'll be to find—'

'How did Connor get through?' Tom heard Simon ask, as if from a great distance. 'The only phone he had was the dumb one organised by Sue, I doubt he knows his mum's number off the top of his head—'

'He doesn't,' Tom confirmed. 'But Imogen might, or Dynasty—'

'Nikki said it's Dynasty's team that's awol,' Simon reminded him. 'I thought that Connor was leading the other team and was at base. If he's changed then we've no idea where they are—'

'We do,' George interrupted, handing out a scrap of paper covered with writing that Tom recognised. He snatched it up and tossed it to Simon.

'Co-ordinates. At least we know where the kids are, and where Christine's gone. Thank God she'd enough sense for that!'

George bristled visibly. 'Of course she did. As she reminded me not long ago, pregnancy has not transformed her into a simpleton!'

'She's a _parent_,' Tom snarled, turning on him. 'Connor's in danger, that's all I meant, you pompous git! What were you thinking of, why didn't you stop her before she took off?'

The other man gave a scornful laugh. 'Stop Christine? How? What did you expect me to do, drag her to her room by the hair and chain her to her desk?'

'I'm going after her,' Tom said, deliberately turning his back on the Languages teacher before his temper got the better of him. 'Simon, if you get hold of emergency services and tell them we're going as well, perhaps those co-ordinates would help—'

'They should be able to trace those from Connor's original phone call,' Simon said, coming to give him a supportive clap. 'Go on, mate. Get them back, keep me posted.'

'You'd better let Carol Barry know as well!' Tom yelled over his shoulder as he started to run.

His heart was thumping oddly and his hands slick on the steering wheel as he moved the car out of the school's drive; he was still reeling from Christine's decision to deal with this alone. As George had said, she wasn't stupid, she knew the dangers both to the kids and to her personally ... Why hadn't she called to tell him? Why hadn't she come to find him? Did she really trust him so little as to believe that he would not permit her to accompany him on his search for the kids? Did she, as George had suggested, believe that he thought that her place for the duration was in her classroom, "chained" to the safety of her desk?

It was more than twenty minutes before he'd reached the desolate area near the reservoir indicated by the perfectly enunciated RP of his sat-nav narrator. A lump caught in his throat as he remembered the abuse he'd taken from Christine and the kids as a result of his preference for that voice over the local varieties, Christine in particular had been scathing. If anything had happened to any of them—

He grabbed a raincoat and torch from the boot of his car and began to climb, his throat closing all over again when he found Christine's Honda several hundred metres away from his own impromptu carpark. The rain was easing slightly, coming down in damp sheets of drizzle rather than angry plops, but it wasn't all good: the mist had thickened and Tom found he had to step carefully, for even the powerful light of his big torch was not proof against the deadening cloud that surrounded him, its clinging fingers leaving him cold inside.

He wouldn't think about that, he told himself as his imagination kicked up a gear. He wouldn't think about Christine getting lost in that choking mist, he wouldn't speculate about the difficulties it must pose for the emergency services trying to reach Kacey ... All he could do was to keep going as quickly and as safely as he could.

* * *

**In the hills, 2.45pm**

* * *

'It's no use,' Dynasty whispered hoarsely. 'No-one's gonna find us, just look at that, the mist is gettin' worse every minute.'

'You can't think that way, Dyn,' Connor told her, his breath ruffling her hair. The two of them, Louisa and Lisa Brown were lying on the ground, hoping that their bodies would act as a human sandwich around Kacey. 'I told you, Mum said help's on it's way.'

'But will it be in time?' Dynasty murmured, reaching out to smooth a lock of hair away from her sister's face. 'That was ages ago an' look at 'er, she's near grey. She looks likes she's al—already dead.'

'She's alive,' Louisa said, and for once those plummily self-assured tones were more than welcome. 'I've got my ear over her chest, I can hear her heart beating—'

'Is it still too fast?' Connor asked.

There was a pause. Dynasty could hear own pulse hammering in her temples.

'Faster than I'd like,' Louisa said shortly and Dynasty could not muster the voice to speak, not when dread and grief had her in its stranglehold.

'Who do yous think Lousy'll send?' Lisa queried.

Dynasty wondered if she genuinely wanted to know or simply needed to hear voices. Even pressed together like sardines it was eerie up here, the mist cutting them off from each other. If silence fell too long it was easy to get trapped inside your own head, to start believing that you were the only one left alive…

'Tom—Mr Clarkson, probably,' Connor said. 'Maybe Windsor—'

Lisa's laugh was dry. 'Yeah, right. He'd have a heart attack, him.'

'Mrs Mulgrew won't come herself?' That was Louisa.

'She'd better not,' Connor said. 'It wouldn't be safe, she's not well enough.'

'I bet she comes,' Dynasty said, her voice catching. 'She's your mum, Connor. As soon as she's realised you're in danger she'll be on 'er way, I'd bet money on it.'

Connor swore under his breath and quiet fell, his anxiety rolling over them in tangible waves and suppressing further conversation. Dynasty was half-ashamed to realise she did not share it; in truth, if she couldn't have her mother Christine would be her next choice.

It was so cold. The ground beneath them was sodden with rain, the dampness of it stole upwards into the very marrow of her bones. Her few layers of plastic and fleece were not proof against it and she was shivering so violently that it hurt; behind her, she could feel Connor shivering too. Kacey did not seem to be racked as the rest of them were and Dynasty was glad of it. Perhaps it meant they'd succeeded in warming her—

'_Connor_!' Rhiannon bellowed from the plateau above, making them jump. 'Connor, help's come!'

Before they could move, Dynasty heard Christine shout, 'Are you OK, son?' and she burst into tears of relief as Connor lurched to his feet.

'Where's Tom?' he yelled.

'Behind me, probably… _ah_!'

Connor started to run, slipping and sliding on the wet grass, his figure made ghostlike by the mist.

'For God's sake, Mum! Stay there, I'm comin' for you…' His voice receded before coming nearer, and Dynasty could hear him scolding. 'What're you doin' here? What if you'd got lost? Or fallen? Or—'

'Stop fussing, it's fine, I'm fine.' Christine sounded very close and Dynasty forced her frozen body to move; everything creaked as she twisted to look up at her former headmistress.

'Ch—Christine,' she stuttered. 'Kacey, she—'

'I'm here,' Christine murmured, coming to kneel by Kacey's side, her hands going to stroke the younger girl's face. 'Kacey? Can you hear me?'

'She's been unconscious the whole time, Mrs Mulgrew,' Louisa offered.

'She's very cold.' Christine shrugged out of her navy mac and laid across Kacey despite Connor's protest. 'That ambulance should've been here by now—'

'Can't see us, can they?' Dynasty knew she sounded as numb as she felt. 'How can they find us if they can't _see_ us—'

'_I_ found you,' the older woman snapped. 'Air ambulance, didn't you say, Connor?'

'Yeah.' Conor's tone was short.

'Right.' Christine leaned forward and began to dig in her coat pockets.

'Mum, what're you—'

She waved him into quiet with one hand before glancing up. 'This is what I was looking for. My lighter.' Dynasty squinted up to see Christine press something small into Connor's hand and fold his fingers over it. 'If ever there was a time for starting fires, son—'

'_Fire_. Of course. We've been idiots!' Louisa sat up as Connor bounded up the slope, his figure turning dim within seconds despite the light from the torch on Lisa's phone. 'I can't believe we didn't think of it!'

'Too shocked.' Christine sank down on her knees next to Dynasty. 'You've done well to keep it together as it is, all of you. I'm proud of you.'

Dynasty sniffled and Louisa's head went down on Kacey once more. The Head Girl shuffled awkwardly; she didn't deserve Christine's pride. She'd done nothing but panic. If it wasn't for Rhiannon and Connor and Louisa … Kacey would be dead by now. She knew that as surely as she knew her own name. A tear trickled down her cheek and she chewed her lip. She couldn't lose anyone else, she just _couldn't_—

She started when Lisa gave a triumphant shout.

'An' there it goes! Look at it, them flames shootin' up! Ambulance'll be here in no time!'

'She's right, it shouldn't be long now,' Christine said with a squeeze of Dynasty's arm, and she allowed herself to shuffle closer to the older woman.

A frantic male voice cut through the mists.

'Kacey! Connor! Christine!'

Dynasty jerked upright, her heart rate accelerating. 'Isn't that—?'

She saw Christine swallow. 'Yeah.' She staggered to her feet. 'Down here, Tom!'

Dynasty had to blink away the tears before she could make him out—but it was not the sight of Tom that made her breath hitch on a sob. He was followed by a group of paramedics, their bright coats gleaming neon green and yellow, and Christine pulled her back when she would have run to them.

'Come on, love, they're going to need space to work. You too, Lisa. Louisa, I think you'd better tell them what you know.'

'Yeah.' Louisa didn't sound as if she was listening; she was still sprawled over Kacey, her left ear fixed above the younger girl's heart. It was an image that branded itself on Dynasty's memory, burning away the weeks of dislike and distrust as surely as the flames on the hill were incinerating the mists.

'C'm'on, Christine's right.' She moved to hold out a hand to the other sixth former. 'The paramedics are comin'. We can't crowd 'em, like.'

Louisa blinked dazedly.

'Come _on_!' Dynasty urged, extending her hand a second time. Slowly the other girl reached for it and Dynasty yanked her up and away just as the paramedics surrounded Kacey, cutting her off from sight. Dynasty bit so deep into her lip that she tasted blood.

'Hey!' Tom yelled, panting up to them with Connor in his wake. 'How's she doing? Is she OK?'

'I—I don't know,' Christine gasped. 'They haven't had long enough yet—'

Tom ignored her. 'Dyn?'

Dynasty blinked, taken aback by his coldness. 'I—I dunno. Lulu—?'

Louisa seemed incapable of speech and it was Christine who said, very shakily, that Kacey was alive but terribly cold and deeply unconscious—

'_No! No!_ Get away from me!'

The screech raised hairs on the back of Dynasty's neck before recognition dawned.

Kacey had roused—and she'd roused screaming.

* * *

_**TBC ... very soon. **_

_**Next time: Dynasty reels as Kacey's secret comes to light, Sue startles Louisa, and Christine and Tom are in trouble.**_

_**Please don't forget to review!**_


	34. Episode 8-5

_There's probably a gazillion mistakes in this due to last minute editing after getting the responses to the last chapter, but I wanted to get this out before midnight and make it the final post of 2014! Happy New Year to you all and may 2015 bring you only good things … as well as the end of Waterloo Road, sadly._

_See you next year—and I'll respond properly to all reviews then. However, thanks must go to __**Jessiekat, Lori, Paisley **__and__** Guest!**_

* * *

**In the hills, 3.00pm**

* * *

Dynasty hurled herself through the paramedics to her sister's side, her heart in her mouth at the sounds Kacey was making.

'What's goin' on? What're yous doin' to 'er?'

The female paramedic glanced up, looking harassed as she struggled to hold Kacey's thrashing arms while her colleague set up lines. 'We started giving her fluids and—and she started behavin' like this. She's not outta her head either, it's as if she don't wanna be helped—' She hesitated before adding, 'Did any of yous see what happened?'

'She was backed into a corner by a group of bullies 'til she lost 'er footin' and fell,' Dynasty spat. If Tom hadn't come to put his hands on her shoulders she'd have gone for the stupid cow. 'What're you sayin', she was tryin' to top herself?'

There was a long pause before the paramedic said, 'The way she's reactin' to us helping … Frankly, I wouldn't rule it out.'

'You don't know what yer talkin' about.' Dynasty forced the words between her teeth. 'She's a Barry, that's not what we do.' She broke free of Tom's hold and fell to her knees by Kacey's side, leaning close enough to whisper, 'You hear that, babes? Hear what they're sayin' about yer? You need to calm down, Kace. They're tryin' to elp—_oi_!' She ducked to avoid a flailing fist that narrowly missed her face.

'We're gonna have to sedate her, she's too wound up, her pulse is goin' crazy!' the male paramedic yelled. 'She'll arrest at this rate!'

Terrified, Dynasty managed to grab Kacey's hands and hold them still. Perhaps Kacey recognised her touch, perhaps she was tired of fighting … Either way, some of the fierce resistance went out of her and Dynasty threw the paramedics a triumphant glance.

'See, told yer, didn't I. Good on you, Kace. Just keep it together, babes, eh? Just 'til we get yer off this bloody hill an' get yer checked out—'

'_Jay_!'

The second paramedic's summons was urgent and Dynasty's mouth went dry as the woman joined her colleague. Their expressions indicated a new problem, and in the meantime Kacey's screeches had faded to a pitiful whimpering that made little sense to her sister. It sounded as if she was begging for the drips to be removed and Dynasty's grasp on the younger girl's hands tightened.

'It's OK, kiddo,' she tried to soothe. 'I know it's dead scary, like, but they are here to help, if you can just tell us what's hurtin'—'

For the first time in what felt like forever Kacey looked her straight in the eyes.

'There's no point, you wouldn't get it, y-you _never_ get it…' She broke off with a wail of pain and Dynasty couldn't endure it. She forgot Kacey's condition, she forgot her anxiety, she forgot everything as a tide of pure frustration overwhelmed her.

'Get _what_?' She wasn't aware she was screaming. 'Get _what_, Kace? I dunno what's goin' on with yer, you've turned into this wee shadow, you won't talk to us—' Hands closed over her shoulders and pulled her back and she saw that Kacey had stopped whimpering, that everything had gone deathly still.

'Wh-what's goin' on?' she stammered, taken aback by the grim set of Tom's jaw and the shocked looks she could see on the faces of the others.

'You lost it there, Dyn.' Tom's smile was strained as he turned her to face him. 'Thought they were gonna have to put you under too.'

Dynasty's eyes widened and Christine added quickly, 'It's OK, the medics have sedated her, there's no harm done. They're getting ready to transfer her to Glasgow now—'

Her voice seemed to die as Dynasty's ears filled with a loud whirring. It took a moment to realise that it was the rapidly approaching air ambulance and not simply the frightened beat of her own heart.

'Is she gonna be OK?' Tom hesitated and her stomach twisted. 'Tom, _please_—'

'I can't, Dyn. I don't know enough meself.' His hold on her shoulders tightened as she shuddered. 'Look, you're going to the hospital, you and Christine, yeah?'

'_What_?' Christine sounded startled. 'Tom, I don't think—'

'Oh, please, miss,' Dynasty implored while Tom said, 'Nikki's on her way for the others, I need to wait for her. You're going with Dynasty.' It was said with such flat finality—almost hostility—that Dynasty flinched and subsided whilst stealing a glance at Christine. The older woman's lips had gone very thin, she noted.

'We're ready now,' Jay announced, looking at Dynasty as the helicopter's search lights blasted through what was left of the mist. 'Are ye comin', miss?'

She nodded.

'Mrs Mulgrew's coming too,' Tom supplied. 'Please,' he added when Jay looked dubious. 'She's pregnant.'

Christine went rigid.

'Come on, Dynasty,' she said, taking Dynasty's arm as the paramedics lifted the stretcher and began the difficult task of moving Kacey up the slope to the air ambulance. 'Let's go.'

As they started to move it occurred to Dynasty that she was supporting Christine just as much as the older woman was supporting her.

* * *

**At the reservoir, 3.20pm**

* * *

'There's Christine's car!' Imogen blurted, clawing at Sue's arm and pointing at the familiar silver Honda. 'We must be nearly there, come on!'

She forged ahead with an energy out of all proportion to her tiny size and Sue wheezed for breath as she attempted to keep up. Not that she was any less eager than Imogen; she knew the younger woman was torn with anxiety for her husband, her best friend, and her mother-in-law—but for Sue everything began and ended with Louisa. Just Louisa. It was wonderful how the mere prospect of danger to Louisa had concentrated her mind, pushing aside all thoughts of Simon and Mika and careers and futures and fathers.

_I don't care what Dad does, I'm going to tell Lulu. He can cut me off if he wants, I won't care. I'll have my daughters, the baby girls he wouldn't even let me see until it was too late…_

'Stop!' Nikki ordered, doing so herself, her mobile to her ear. She continued talking but Sue kept going, blowing hard. Nikki Boston could say what she liked but Sue wasn't going to quit moving until she could see for herself that Louisa was unharmed.

Imogen caught her arm.

'We have to turn back,' she insisted, green eyes glimmering with understanding. 'Miss Boston's been talking to Tom, they're on their way down and they'll be with us soon. He wants us to start walking back to Christine's car, it's an easy landmark nobody'll miss.'

'Oh.' Sue swallowed, trying to get her head around the sudden change of pace and direction. 'Are—is everyone all right?'

The younger woman looked surprised. 'Can't you hear it? I can't, but Boston says it's there. The air ambulance.'

The little remaining breath Sue had whistled out of her. '_Air ambulance?_' Now that she was thinking of it she found she could indeed hear the pulsing roar of a helicopter in flight, and it was her turn to claw at Imogen's arm, manicured nails digging deep into the girl's padded jacket. '_Who_?'

Imogen's eyes widened. 'You really weren't listenin', were you, miss? They're fine. Everyone's fine, Kacey's the only one who's been hurt an' even that's just shock and a twisted ankle, Boston says.'

'H-how? I mean, the phones weren't working—' Sue forced herself to shut up lest she say too much, but Imogen hadn't noticed.

'It was Connor, miss!' It was almost a squeal of pride. 'Connor and Dyn and Lisa Brown's phone… They called the ambulance an' all, they were _amazing_—and there they are!' She gave a second squeal, one that hurt Sue's ears, and took off, yelling her husband's name.

Nor was she the only one. Once the rest of their party saw that their missing members were indeed coming into sight, half the kids began to run, Mika and Nikki keeping pace with them. Only Sue seemed frozen to the spot as the two groups met and merged with embraces and shrill cries of relief.

_She couldn't see Louisa_.

The realisation made her stomach swoop to her toes as she sought the distinctive gleam of her daughter's pale gold hair. She could see Year 12, a mass of arms and mostly dark heads with Connor and Imogen at its centre; she could see her Year 10 nemesis of Darren Hughes _et al_, all of whom seemed uncharacteristically subdued; there was Lula and Harvey demanding news of Kacey from anyone who would listen—but no Louisa.

Had Imogen been so concerned for the safety of her own friends and family that she hadn't heard if anyone else was injured?

Had something happened on the way down? Sue squinted up the slope from whence the others had come and her tummy rolled. This side was not especially steep, but it was pitted and uneven …Opportunity enough for injury if one was tired or upset or simply careless.

'Tom, at last!' Nikki called, and Sue's eyes jerked towards the older woman's voice—and her hand flew to her mouth to catch a sob.

'Sorry we're late,' Tom said, the lines of strain about his eyes and mouth plain even to Sue. 'Someone needed a bit of help.' He glanced sideways at the golden-headed girl who clung to his arm. 'She did well, this one, by all accounts.'

'Yeah, we couldn't have done without her,' Connor called, and everyone quietened to hear him speak. 'She was … she was awesome up there. Dead calm, she knew exactly what to do when the rest of us were totally freaking out…'

'Good on you, Lulu!' Rhiannon Salt shouted and Sue saw her daughter blink, as if genuinely taken aback by the warmth in the other sixth former's tone.

Sue felt as if she'd been gored by a bull. Had Louisa really been so disliked at Waterloo Road? Perhaps she had been; only that morning there'd been a wistfulness when she referred to Kevin her best friend and Sue had ridiculed her … as she'd ridiculed so many of Louisa's statements over the years. No wonder the girl disliked her.

Christine's voice rang in her memory: _And how have you treated her? _

Not well, she had to admit. Not like a daughter. Not even like a niece.

Belatedly Sue became conscious that the kids had gone quiet, many of them staring at her, as if wondering why she'd made no attempt to greet her relative after her ordeal.

Her breath caught.

'Louisa.'

The silence deepened; the rustles and rattles of the wind shaking still-leafless trees was suddenly loud.

'Are you all right?' Sue asked, uncaring of how her voice trembled. 'I've been so worried—'

'She _has_,' Imogen affirmed staunchly. 'She's been dead worried, Lulu.'

Sue threw the younger Mrs Mulgrew a grateful look (_more_ coals of fire … it was almost too much) and dared to meet her daughter's eyes.

They seemed dubious. 'Seriously? You were worried about me?'

Unable to speak, Sue could only nod.

Louisa's expression crumpled and she took a step forward. So did Sue. Another step and they were running, meeting halfway in the most heartfelt embrace they'd ever shared.

'I was so scared, Auntie Sue,' Louisa whispered in her ear. 'In case I'd got it wrong—'

'You did _brilliantly_,' Sue insisted fiercely, refusing to lessen her hold on the girl. 'Absolutely brilliantly, I'm so proud of you—' She buried her nose in the fur trim of her daughter's hood and glanced up to see Tom watching them, his stare speaking louder than words.

_You have to tell her_, it said. _You have to tell her the truth. _

* * *

**Mulgrew Household, 6.40pm**

* * *

The taxi drew up in Christine's big drive and she stumbled out of it, profound exhaustion threatening to drag her to the ground. Her knees shook as she took the handful of steps required to bring her to the front door, her hands fumbling through her bag in search of her keys. She could ring the bell—there was a warm glow from the sitting room and Connor's dormer windows above—but she'd no desire to see either Tom or her son immediately. Alcohol, however, she _did_ desire—with a passion that left her shaken. The vodka in her handbag seemed to be weighing it down, reminding her of its presence. If the house had been empty… She shuddered as the key finally twisted and the door swung open. All things considered it was just as well the house _wasn't_ empty.

Connor came racing down the stairs, his eyes shadowed. 'How is she?'

'Can't I get my coat off first?'

He drew back at her tone. 'I'll help—'

She jerked away from his touch. 'How many times do I have to say it? I'm _fine_, Connor. I can take my own coat off!'

His jaw tightened, she could see the muscles bunching. Guilt went through her when his fists clenched but he still managed to say calmly, 'I'm sorry.'

Christine blew out an explosive sigh. 'No, you're OK, son. _I'm_ sorry, I shouldn't have bitten your head off like that …' He took her arm to guide her to the kitchen and she allowed it. 'Kacey's … Physically, she's sort of … fine.'

Connor looked confused, as well he might. '"Sort of"?'

She sank thankfully onto a seat, toeing off her shoes. The coolness of the tiles soothed her sore feet.

'Yeah, the ankle's not broken after all, just badly twisted. It'll be a couple of months before it's healed and even then she'll need to be careful with it if she's to avoid a lasting injury. But that's not what's worrying them … Connor, had you noticed how much weight she's lost?'

He took his time in replying, his concentration apparently focused on getting the kettle on. 'I… Sometimes I thought she was too skinny, sometimes I thought she looked a bit like those photos Audrey showed us of concentration camp victims. The hollow cheeks and starin' eyes, you know?'

Christine bit her lip. 'Yeah.'

He carried on as if he hadn't heard. 'But I'm a bloke, what do I know? She seemed to be OK most of the time, those grief leaflets that counsellor gave us after last term said that sometimes people don't eat, I guess I thought it was that …' He stopped. 'Is it serious?'

Christine pressed her fingers into her forehead, the headache that had been threatening for hours blossoming into sharp bolts of pain. 'Could be. She's got this, this downy hair everywhere. They said it's a classic sign of anorexia.' Her voice cracked. 'They think that's what was behind her collapse out there, not the ankle. She's having a psychiatric assessment as soon as she's fit enough—you can imagine what Carol Barry thought of _that_.'

'Did she flip?' Connor placed a steaming cup before her. Evidently he'd forgotten her current aversion to coffee and a wave of nausea made Christine cover her mouth as rich fumes wafted to her nostrils.

'I can't—'

'Sorry!' He whipped it away and she closed her eyes, struggling to get her protesting stomach under control. 'D'you want tea instead?'

She shook her head gently and focused on breathing slowly. Gradually her pulse calmed. 'Sorry.' She tried to summon a smile, she hated to see Connor so worried. 'Maybe later, eh?' Another slow expulsion of air and she was able to continue. 'Carol … wasn't impressed. Dynasty had to take her away to prevent her from upsetting Kacey further. God, poor Dyn!' She covered her face with her hands. 'As if she hasn't been through enough … And I was totally _useless_!'

'You look knackered, Mum,' Connor offered softly. 'I know you don't like the fussin', but being dead tired can't be good for you or Squirt. Why don't you go to bed?'

She didn't have the energy to protest. All the fight had drained from her like air from a pricked balloon. 'Maybe I will. I'll, I'll go up and—Where's Tom? Isn't he here?'

Her son's gaze slid from hers. 'I think he's upstairs.'

'And?' Her heart was racing; it wasn't like Connor to be so evasive.

'I don't know! You have to talk to him yourself, he's been quiet all afternoon. We got back here a couple of hours ago and he went up and I haven't seen him—' He broke off, staring over Christine's shoulder, and she turned slowly.

Tom was standing in the doorway, almost filling it. He wasn't smiling; he looked as tired as she felt, tired and somehow sad.

'You're back.'

She nodded.

Connor lurched to his feet. 'Uh, I'm … I'm just gonna go to Imogen's for a bit, OK? I'll be back in a couple of hours.'

Christine forced a smile. 'Sure. See you later, son.'

He squeezed past Tom with a mutter and Christine nearly called him back, but she hesitated just long enough to hear the finalit of the front door closing.

'How's Kacey?' Tom asked.

Christine couldn't go through it all again. 'Bad. She's … She's in hospital for the duration. It'll be a while before she's well enough to come back.'

His eyebrows went up. 'Is that it?'

'You want a full report? Now? _Really_?' She pushed the chair back from the table. 'I'm sorry, it's gonna have to wait. I admit it, I'm … I'm totally shattered, I need to go to bed—'

'Whose fault is that, eh?'

The question chilled her blood. It wasn't passionate, there was no heat in it, it was just a mild query that made it sound as if he didn't particularly care.

'Tom, I—' She broke off as she came close enough to see past him into the hall behind and her breath caught. 'You're leaving.' She couldn't believe it; after all he'd said, all the promises …

'Just for a couple of nights.' He moved towards her and she backed away. 'Don't look like that. I'm not _leaving_ you, it's just—it's just not working like this. Everything's happened so fast. Six months ago we were just colleagues and now… After everything the doctor said I can't help worrying and you hate my worrying. I'm stressin' about you and you're stressin' about my stressin' and we're not doing anyone any good.'

She reached out for him, desperate to prevent her fears from coming true. 'I'm sorry, I'll try and do better, I promise. Just don't go, please don't go—'

'Christine.' Tom gave her a slight shake. 'Listen to me. I'm _not leaving you_, I'm just … just trying to gave us both some headspace, y'know? I'll see you at school tomorrow, you've got my number. You don't need me anyway, you've got that hot date with a pillow!' He grinned but she couldn't return it.

'Please don't go.' The words almost choked her to say, but Connor was out and her old dread of being alone was suffocating.

Tom pulled her close with a quick kiss. 'Go to bed and get some sleep. It'll be fine, Chris. You're shattered, bet you're out as soon as your head hits that pillow. We'll talk properly tomorrow, yeah?'

There was no point in asking, she realised. He was determined. She stepped out of his embrace with an attempt at a brisk nod. 'Sure.'

He relaxed visibly. 'It'll be fine, I promise. We'll get through this.'

Christine braced herself against the breakfast bar and watched him go with a feigned smile that hurt her cheeks. It remained in place until she'd heard Tom's engine roar into life; as the sound faded she turned to reach for a glass tumbler, placing it with precise care on the worktop. Still moving deliberately—she was too tired for extraneous physical effort—she retrieved her bag from near the door. Her lips pressed firmly together as she unzipped it and withdrew the bottle of vodka, her grip on its smooth sides resembling that of a drowning man clutching a rope.

Then, very slowly, she poured herself a large glass and exhaled a slow breath of anticipation.

* * *

**TBC**

**Don't forget to let me know what you think—or to enjoy New Year's Day! XX**


	35. Episode 9-1

**Additional Note, 16/1/2015:**

**I wasn't entirely happy with the original version of this, so it's been tweaked. Nothing's hugely changed but the emphasis has shifted slightly and hopefully it's more effective!**

* * *

**Original Note**

**Well, you know the score by now. The .1 chapters are always the quietest and this one is no exception … but don't let it lull you into a sense of security because we're down to the last two episodes and it **_**is**_** Waterloo Road after all… **

**Lori**: LOL, I hope I get plenty of writing time this year too as inspiration is burning nicely for the third story. I may not even have to take a break; that's a good thing as otherwise there'd be a real risk that I wouldn't return without another series in the offing. Thanks for saying the stuff about Kacey is accurate—it's always really important to me that anything issue-related is accurate.

**Jessiekat89**: *g* So does she drink or doesn't she? Read on!

**Paisley**: Happy New Year to you too! Lots of Tomstine coming up and your comment reminded me of the need for comeuppance for Lisa &amp; Co. Just as well, that nearly slipped my mind!

**Keepingitsweet**: Thanks!

**Chantelucy**: Happy New Year to you too and I hope you stick with this even though you may not see much of Kacey for the rest of this story—but she'll be back.

* * *

**Mulgrew Household, 7.40am**

* * *

'Isn't she up yet? She'll be late.'

Connor did not look up as his wife entered the kitchen until he'd finished pouring boiling water into his mum's favourite mug. 'I know, I'm on it.'

Imogen flipped her hair over her shirt collar, her eyes concerned. 'D'you think you should call Tom? I know your mum likes her sleep, but she's never—'

'I said I'm on it!' He brushed past without apology and stomped up the stairs, making no effort to be quiet. He hated to admit it, but Imogen was right. It wasn't like his mother to be so late— or rather, it wasn't like her when she was sober.

He used his elbow to lean on the handle, butterflies flipping wildly in his tummy. The room was dark from the blackout curtains, so dark that it took a moment for him to make out the bed and stumble towards it with muttered curses as he spilled hot liquid over his fingers.

'Mum?' he said, not bothering to lower his voice as he felt for the lamp's switch. 'Mum, it's time to get up.'

Light flooded the room and Connor blinked as his retinas protested. That should waken his mum and no mistake; the bulbs were harsh, their light searingly cold. And if she'd been drinking… His mouth went dry as he caught sight of a small tumbler next to the lamp; he took the opportunity to sniff it when he placed the mug of tea beside it.

'It was water,' his mum rasped, and he started.

'I—I brought you some ginger t-tea,' he stammered in the face of her accusing stare. 'Maggie says it's good for—'

'I was thirsty in the night.' She pushed herself upright, nodding towards the offending glass. 'That's the tooth cup from the bathroom.'

Embarrassment and guilt raced through him. That was all she needed, to think he didn't trust her.

'I'm sorry, I just thought, what with Tom and all … I'm sorry.' He indicated the tea as a peace-offering. 'D'you want to try it?'

She pursed her lips and lifted it, giving him a considering look through her lashes. 'I suppose I'd better. I can't have you … suspecting things, can I?'

Their gazes met and an old hostility flickered.

'Can you blame me?'

The mug clipped sharply on the table as she replaced it. 'No. But I'll tell you what I told Tom last week. I may be an alcoholic, Connor, but I am not a child and I am not stupid. I told you before, I want to do things properly this time. I didn't need the doctor's lecture a fortnight ago, I know better than to even consider drinking when—'

'You were drinking at the start of term,' Connor interrupted before he could stop himself. 'You were pregnant then!'

He saw her nostrils flare and her lips pinch before she snapped, 'I didn't know then, did I?' She flung the covers back and pushed out of bed. 'And that was nothing. A little glass here and there, I wasn't exactly knocking it back!'

'You're not supposed to be touching it at all, Mum!'

'Well, listen you, Mr Antenatal Expert! What do you know about it anyway?'

'I can read, can't I? And Tom was upset after that appointment, I mean really upset. You came up to bed and I got him to tell me what the doctor said—'

'What a surprise—'

'Yeah, 'cos you hadn't told him about the hepatitis, had you? Blindsided him with that one. Why is it so hard for you to understand? He loves you. I love you. We don't want to lose you or Squirt and everything we do to help … it's always wrong! We can't do anything right!'

His mum's shoulders were rigid. 'So what are you going to do, you going to leave as well?'

His fists clenched as he leaned in, forcing the words through his teeth. '_Don't_ tempt me.'

She flinched and Connor cursed himself. They were doing it again, needling each other, pushing at each other's hot buttons as only they could. Once his mother had compared them to a pair of bulls crashing around a china shop; just now, the analogy seemed painfully apposite.

He blew out a sigh, expelling a wealth of anger and frustration. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean it.'

Her lips began to tremble. 'No, _I'm_ sorry—'

Connor collapsed limply beside her, his posture slumping, and they sat together in a silence that was almost comfortable. This they'd always been able to do, when words threatened to become weapons too toxic to unleash.

'Connor!' Imogen's yell broke their moment. 'It's after eight!'

His mum squeezed his arm. 'You'd better go. You're going to Dynasty's first, right?'

He nodded. 'Yeah, she and Carol came home last night.' He paused. 'Will you be OK?'

Her expression softened.

'I will be fine. I will sort myself out and get to school—probably before you, if I know Dynasty.'

Connor's grin was weak. 'Probably, she's better than she used to be, but—' He shrugged. 'S'pose we'll forgive her this morning, we're dying to hear about Kace.'

'H'mmm.' His mother sighed. 'Poor kid.'

'"Kid"?' Connor echoed. 'She's sixteen!'

'You'll always be kids to me,' his mum told him with another squeeze. 'Just wait, it'll happen to you someday—'

'Nope. No way.' He rose and stood looking down on her. 'Me and Imogen, we're gonna be cool parents, we're gonna be like our kids' best mates—'

She laughed, the sound lightening his heart. 'Dream on, son. You try that and you'll embarrass the hell out of them, trust me.' She got to her feet, peering for her slippers amongst the general chaos of her bedroom floor. He toed them across with a smirk and she rolled her eyes and pointed at him. 'Don't even—!'

Connor grinned. 'Whatever, I'll see you later.' He paused at the door. 'Will I let Tom know you're comin' in?'

'You might as well, I can't have him and Simon breathing down my neck. That's if he can tear himself away from Sue-bloody-Spark, of course.'

Now it was Connor's turn to roll his eyes.

'He's just helpin' her, Mum. He needed something to do while he was waiting on you!' His mother grumbled something he chose to ignore and he went to leave.

She called him back and he turned.

'What? I need to go or I'll be late!'

'You're a good—' She paused and he raised his eyebrows in a silent prompt, aware that if he was much later Imogen would come looking and she wouldn't be happy.

His mother smiled.

'I was going to say you're a good boy, but you're not, are you? Not any more.' The smile turned wistful. 'You're a man now and somehow … somehow, you've turned into a good man and I—I couldn't be prouder of you if I tried. You'll remember that, won't you?'

He found himself blinking at that and tried to cover it with a bit a cheek.

'Bein' preggers is turnin' you into a real mush-pot, d'you know that?' Her eyes popped and he cut her off with a soft smile. 'It's OK, Mum. I know. I get it. And … I'm proud of you too, you've no idea.'

'_Connor!_'

Imogen's summons was turning increasingly shrill and he grimaced, knowing it would be pointless to attempt a yell in response. He jerked his head towards the door.

'The missus calls. See you later!' He left his mother with a a half-salute and ran lightly down the stairs to join his exasperated wife, his lips quirking.

'Finally!' Imogen tugged him towards the front door and prodded him out. 'Thought you were never comin'.' She blinked; the sun hung low and piercingly bright. 'Hey, it looks like it's gonna be a good day, doesn't it?'

'Yeah.' He let his breath out in a happy sigh. 'Yeah, it does. C'm'on, let's go.'

* * *

**Mulgrew Household, 8.10am**

* * *

Christine bit into her lower lip as she listened for the slam of the front door that would proclaim the exit of her son and daughter-in-law. Once it came she lifted the glass from the bedside table and sniffed it herself, her stomach flipping at the near-miss. She'd tried to have a glass of vodka just as she'd done the week before—utter exhaustion, she was finding, did not always translate into easy sleep—but once again her body had rebelled and she'd found herself being sick after only one sip. She'd taken the precaution of rinsing the glass several times and filling it with water and as a result Connor's suspicions were made to seem groundless.

Only they weren't. Not entirely, even if her lapse was largely one of spirit rather than letter.

Her lips twisted in a wry smile as she finished brushing her teeth; the irony that morning sickness should affect her with alcohol was not lost on her. Even unborn it seemed that her second child was already colluding with her first to keep her well and truly on the wagon…

'It's a good thing,' she lectured her reflection, wishing that she sounded stronger, more confident, more like her classroom self. 'It is. You can't solve things by masking them with alcohol, it doesn't work.' She blew out a long breath. 'I need to get on with it, do my job. Find out exactly what happened last week with Kacey.' She sighed. 'Talk to Dynasty … talk to Tom. Sort this out.' _Get him home_, she thought but did not say. The hope was too fragile, too precious, too delicate to be trusted to words spoken aloud—even to herself.

Yet she still paused to run a loving finger over the vodka bottle buried in the depths of her lingerie drawer when she went to extract the necessaries for the day. It was the one place she knew no-one else would ever look, and despite all her resolutions the knowledge that it was there gave her a boost.

'I don't want to hurt you, Squirt,' Christine continued as she moved around the room, extracting leggings and boots and a loose top. There was little visible evidence of a bump as yet but her structured suits were starting to feel constrictive. 'I want you to be born safe and sound and … Well, let's face it, the odds are already stacked against you, kid. Elderly alcoholic mother in an uncertain relationship with your dad—' Her voice broke and she pinched her lips shut.

She couldn't think this way. She had to think positive, take the first step. After all, she was painfully aware that most of their problems stemmed from her apparent inability to permanently cut the shackles of her past. If she could show Tom she was sorry, if she could meet him half-way …

He'd make things easy for her, wouldn't he? He hadn't left because he'd wanted to, he'd left because he felt he had no other choice. She bit into her lip, remembering truthful words spoken in anger weeks ago: _People don't _leave_ you, Christine—you force them out by making it impossible to stay_.

'I have to fix this,' she told her reflection as she stopped for a final check before heading downstairs to attempt some food. Hair, makeup, outfit … She looked professional, a woman in control of herself and her destiny. It might only be an act but she'd learned long ago that sometimes an act could masquerade for reality until it became real—and today, she was determined it would be real.

It had to be. Too much was riding on it.

* * *

**Staff Room, 8.45am**

* * *

'Gotcha!' Tom grabbed Sue's arm as the young teacher tried to pass him when they met in the corridor outside the staff room. 'I've been looking for you.'

'What? Why?' She looked scared and uncertain and he forced himself to gentle his manner. The survival training day had left her noticeably subdued, and he'd spent the intervening days trying to bolster her confidence. Worrying about Sue was better than worrying about the disaster his personal life had become.

He pulled his companion forward, a twinkly man some years Tom's junior.

'This is Hector Reid, Sue. He's come for the rest of term to give you a hand, it's a bit much for us to expect you to run the department along with everything else.' Sue bit her lip and he sighed, realising she'd interpreted that as a criticism. 'Hey, don't look like that. This is good, Hector's got years of experience of teaching kids like ours and he's a Science specialist. The kids won't suffer while you're on a reduced timetable and in the meantime he'll be able to give you subject-specific advice. The rest of us are a bit short on that, I'm afraid.'

'Science expert, that's me,' Hector said, flashing a roguish grin that revealed perfect teeth. 'At your service, Miss Spark.' He made a small bow and Tom's eyebrows lifted in amusement when Sue blushed.

'Only if it's not going to be any trouble,' she murmured, glancing up through her lashes.

'There's no such thing as too much trouble for a lady,' Hector told her and Tom mentally rolled his eyes. 'Especially a lady with your guts, Miss Spark. I can't imagine trying to do my first year in-post as an HOD, that takes some serious…' He whistled approvingly and Sue gave the first proper smile Tom had seen from her in several weeks, her shoulders going back and her chin lifting as she turned to him.

'What will Hector actually be doing? Will he be taking over my classes?'

'Yes and no. You'll be team-teaching with Hector this week with a view to moving towards supervised solo teaching by the middle of next. However, you're still a trained teacher, Sue, this doesn't change that. We're hoping that you'll be in charge of your own classroom again by Friday week, end the term on a good note. Sound like a plan?'

'Yes.' She swallowed. 'Yes, it does, it sounds amazing. I, I just want to not be utterly hopeless, just halfway competent!'

'Oh, you'll be more than competent by the time I'm done with you,' Hector promised with a wink, and Sue turned pink all over again.

'I can't thank you enough, Mr Reid—'

'Hector, please,' he interrupted, still grinning. 'I hate being "Mr Reid" to anyone but the kids.'

Sue's head dipped and she gave a shy smile. 'Hector, then. And you Tom, I know this is all coming from you. I—I just want you to know that I genuinely appreciate it.'

'I'm just doing my job,' Tom said. His attention was distracted; behind her, he could see Christine approaching, her long coat floating with the swiftness of her movement, and the sight of her unleashed a perfect storm of emotions within. Was she coming towards him? Was she going to speak to him? He glanced at Sue. 'Are you OK to bring Hector to the lab, Sue? I've got to—' He indicated Christine and the younger woman nodded.

'Of course.' She turned to the other teacher. 'This way, Mr Reid. Ah,' she caught herself with a glance that even Tom could see was flirtatious, '_Hector_.'

The man turned so twinkly he practically sparkled. 'Quick learner like you, we'll have you back in the hot seat in no time.' He offered his arm and Sue accepted, leaving Tom staring bemusedly after them.

'What was _that_?' Christine asked and he turned, his heartbeat accelerating at the simple sound of her voice. 'Whatever it was, it looked very … smooth.'

It was the first time she'd spoken to him since the previous Wednesday, when sheer desperation had compelled him to walk out on her. He'd agonised over it ever since, he'd even tried several times to talk to her, to explain, but she'd made herself unavailable as only Christine yet here she was, talking to him as if the past week had never been. Could it be that simple? Could they really turn back time?

He determined to give it his best shot.

'That's our Science supply teacher for the next fortnight—and "smooth" doesn't cover it. He's laid it on dead thick, Sue's totally bedazzled.'

'Let's hope _he_ isn't dazzled by _her_ or there's small hope of him being any practical use to the school.' Christine's comment was caustic and he sent her a sideways glance.

'Don't worry, I'll keep my eye on 'em. Sue's vulnerable right now and I've a feeling our Mr Reid is a bit of a predator. I think he's disposed to chase anything female that moves.'

Christine pursed her lips and the tight worry that had lived inside him all week eased when he saw a glimmer of a twinkle in her eye. 'Is that a warning, Mr Clarkson?'

He smirked, her tone throwing him back into old patterns. 'Consider yourself warned, Mrs Mulgrew.'

'I doubt _I'm_ in any danger,' Christine continued as he held the door for her. 'A smooth operator like him, he'll know which side his bread is buttered on. I'm too old and cynical, he wouldn't waste his time.'

'And you're taken anyway,' he said, automatically taking her coat when she shrugged out of it.

'There is that.' She lifted her eyes to his and the air between them was suddenly heavy. 'Tom, I—'

'We need to do some serious talkin', Chris,' he said in a rush. 'We can't keep going in circles like this.'

Her eyes dropped.

'I know.' She licked her lips. 'I _know_, I—What about tonight?'

'_Tonight?_' He couldn't believe it, he'd wondered if she'd ever forgive him for leaving. He knew his reasons were good, but when viewed when Christine's perspective ... Even the memory made him shudder inside.

'To talk? Maybe share a bite to eat?'

_That_ distracted him. 'You're eating?'

Christine shrugged. 'Getting there.' Her lips twitched. 'Don't tell Connor, but I actually made myself a proper breakfast this morning. And kept it down—although the ginger tea he forced on me might've had something to do with it.'

Tom found he was beaming. 'That's great!' He studied her. 'You're, you're looking … good.'

She was, he thought. The dark rings around her eyes had gone, she'd taken time with her makeup that morning, and her hair gleamed. Perhaps taking a break had been wise; Christine seemed more herself than she'd done in … weeks. Months.

'Nothing like a bit of beauty sleep to pep you up,' she was saying now as she circled the breakfast bar that separated the kitchenette from the rest of the staff room. 'I took your advice, I had that hot date with a pillow. Several hot dates, in fact,' she added, raising her mug to him once she'd filled it from Audrey's coffee-pot. 'So. What about it?'

'What?' Tom blinked in confusion, having lost track.

'Keep up or _you'll_ be needing that hot date with a pillow,' Christine chided, shoving his mug towards him. Tonight. Are we on?'

'Yeah.' All at once he couldn't stop grinning, his cheeks ached with it. 'Yeah, we're on. Tell me when and I'll be there, you won't be able to stop me!'

* * *

**TBC**


	36. Episode 9-2

_**Firstly: if you've only read 9.1 once just after I posted it, go back and re-read it. Thanks to some prodding by the wonderful **_**Lori**_**, I went back and tweaked it slightly. Very little has actually changed but I hope it now makes sense in a way it didn't before and obviously this second part goes on from that so I do urge you to re-read if you haven't already done so.**_

_**There's a major plot development in this chapter, one that's probably going to have you baying for my blood… **_

_**Reviews**:_

_**Lori**: And I thank _you_ for being passionate enough about this fanfic to call me when things are below par! I knew things weren't right when I posted it, but I was lazy and didn't follow my gut instinct. Your comment gave me the kick I needed to make the changes that would allow that chapter to make sense, so I'm glad—and deeply relieved—that it worked. Believe it or not, I do firmly subscribe to the belief that every scene in a story needs to move the reader's understanding of either plot or character forward to work—and as it originally stood, that chapter did neither. Which reminds me, I still owe you and Paisley another chapter of _Piper_._

_**Paisley**: Glad you found the humour in Sue/Hector. Trying to decide whether to keep him in or not, what do you think? And you should be happy with this bit… or maybe not._

_**Niamhemiliee**: Aw, thanks. That was a lovely comment on that chapter given its very real failings (thus the slight rewrite) and I'm so glad you're enjoying my portrayal of Christine! She's easily my favourite character to write, not least because she's so unpredictable. Having said that, I think I'm going to hide from you after you've read this bit…_

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**Mrs Mulgrew's classroom, 11.45am**

* * *

'OK, get started. Before anyone asks, _yes_, you can discuss this in groups but only _if_ you can keep the volume down to dull roar.' Year 12 quite frankly gaped and Christine gestured. 'So what are you waiting for? Get on with it, the work won't do itself!'

There was a further moment of stunned silence before the pupils started to arrange themselves into groups as suggested, and Christine shook her head as she stacked Year 7's exercise books in a neat pile and sat down. She hadn't been _that_ much of an ogre, had she? Then again … She glanced at the makeshift table at the back of the room with its three dark heads, one red, and one gold, and bit her lip. Remembering Connor that morning perhaps it was better not to ask. Better instead to focus on moving forward as she'd intended.

With that thought in mind, she gave the class ten minutes to get stuck in while keeping a furtive eye on the group at the back. She was hoping to get an opportunity to speak to Dynasty and discover more about Kacey's state—but she didn't want to interrupt the girl if the younger woman seemed to be enjoying the task and being with her friends once more. If school and lessons could give her some sort of respite Christine was not going to break it.

But Dynasty did not seem to enjoying it at all. Whilst the others argued over their text—even Kevin, whose speech had come on in leaps and bounds over the past fortnight—the elder Barry girl seemed sunk in a dark world of her own, making no effort to join in. When Christine saw Imogen try to prod her into taking part and get nothing but short shrift for her trouble, she decided to delay no longer.

She rose, taking a moment to circulate around the tables. A word of reprimand for Jack and Ryan, who seemed to be arguing over something that was decidedly not _Tess_. A word of encouragement for Rhiannon and Jasmine, who didn't seem to know what they were doing. Nods of approval for sundry groups who did, and then at last she felt she could approach her son's group without making her intentions blatantly obvious.

'Well?' she prompted, placing her hands flat on the desk. 'Any conclusions?'

'Yeah, that Hardy's a bore,' Connor grunted, and Christine's lips quivered. 'All these descriptions, pages and _pages_ of them—'

'It could be worse,' Louisa cut in. 'It could be _Far From The Madding Crowd_.'

'_Nothing_ could be worse,' Connor snorted and his mother had to bite back a laugh when Kevin smirked and asked when he'd developed a passion for sheep, much to Connor's bewilderment.

'Read it and you'll find out,' Christine told him briskly. 'Or… you could take the lazy route and watch it, I think I've got a tape at home—What?'

The young people were staring at her.

'A _tape_, Mrs Mulgrew?' Imogen asked, eyes dancing.

'That's, like, _ancient_ technology, miss,' Kevin put in, still smirking. 'D'you still have a VHS recorder too?'

'Yes, and it's nearly as old as Connor is,' Christine told him tartly. 'Your point?' Connor sent Kevin a look that said _shut up_ and the latter subsided. 'Good. Back to _Tess_ and the subject at hand, please. Dynasty—'

The Head Girl had remained silent throughout the whole exchange. Louisa had to nudge her twice before she roused, raising troubled eyes to Christine's face.

'Did you want me, miss?'

Christine nodded towards the door. 'A word.' She turned on her heel and left the room, crossing the hall to lean against the wall with her arms folded.

Dynasty approached with lagging steps, her head downcast.

'So?' Christine prompted gently when several moments passed without a word from the younger woman. 'How are you? How's Kacey?'

Dynasty's lip trembled and she gave her head a slight shake.

'Come on.' Christine brushed a light touch on the girl's shoulder. 'Talk to me, Dyn.'

A quiver ran through her.

'Mum said … Mum said I can't,' she gasped. 'She said … She said it was our business, like, she didn't want anyone else knowin' that a Barry's that messed up in the 'ead—'

'She said _what_?' Christine exploded, and immediately regretted it when the younger woman flinched back. ''Shh, it's OK. I'm not angry.' She paused, studying the girl before her and acutely aware that she must choose her next words carefully. 'What about you, h'mm? What do you think?'

Dynasty shook her head wildly and Christine sighed.

'Right. Well, you know where I am… Now. I need some answers. What with one thing and another I'm not clear exactly what happened last week. Care to shed some light on the situation?'

Dynasty shook her head a second time, her lips pressing tightly together.

'Oh, come on. Was it an accident? I've heard something about Lisa and Shaznay, something about them causing Kacey's fall?'

Dynasty's head snapped up.

'It wasn't them, it was me! If you're lookin' for someone to punish … It was me!'

'How?' Christine was careful to keep her voice soft.

'Because … because she didn't want to c-come and I…' The younger woman's control was becoming more tenuous by the second. 'She told me she were ill an' I never b-believed her! She didn't wanna c-come and I _m-made_ her!' The last words came out in a strangled wail that hurt Christine's very core. She knew how destructive guilt could be.

She held out her arms. 'Oh, come here.'

Dynasty stumbled into them. 'I was so horrible to her, Christine! I blackmailed her into comin', I did, and then when she was totally freakin' out up there I was so mean, I was …' She crumpled into incoherency and Christine tightened her embrace, resting her chin on top of the girl's head.

'There … shhhh, it's OK … Dyn, listen to me.' She drew back to catch Dynasty's eyes with her own. 'Listen. You are not to blame, OK? Kacey could have insisted that she wasn't feeling well. She's sixteen. As Connor reminded me this morning, that's not a kid. _And_ she got all the way up that damned hill under her own steam.'

Dynasty's breath was still hitching from sobs, her eyes very dark.

Christine squeezed her upper arms to try to jerk the girl out of her private hell. 'So. How did Kacey fall? I refuse to believe you pushed her. Ah!' She lifted a forefinger. 'You did _not_ push her, did you?'

'No, but I—'

'So what happened?'

'I—I dunno,' Dynasty gasped. 'I never saw, that was my fault too, wasn't it. I should've been lookin' out for her, she's me wee sister, the only one I've got!' She sniffled. 'Christine, if she'd died up there, me mum'd never forgive us. _I'd_ never forgive us, I feel sick just rememberin'!'

'Well, she didn't,' Christine told her firmly. 'You worrying about it isn't going to help Kacey now, is it?'

'That's another thing.' Dynasty's voice had dropped to a near-whisper. 'How'd we not see it? Any of us? That doctor, he told us that anorexia is dead serious, it has the highest mortality rate of any mental illness. Mum nearly 'ad him for sayin' it, but I googled it after and 'e wasn't lyin'. Our Kace has something she coulda died from and we never even _knew_!'

'Oh, Dyn.' Christine's sigh ruffled the younger woman's hair as she pulled her close once more. 'That's a guilt we all share, love. As teachers we're supposed to be aware, and…' She shook her head. 'I don't think any of us realised. But let's be brutal here, OK? You didn't know because Kacey didn't want you to know. My understanding is that anorexia is about secrecy and control. If Kacey was drowning it was because on some level she _wanted_ to drown. You couldn't help her until she wanted to help herself.

She bit her lip. 'Like me and alcohol. When I'm sober, I know the damage it does. But when I drink …' She closed her eyes. 'The only thing that's important is getting that next drink, you can ask Connor, he'll tell you. There were times he took that vodka away and I—I shouldn't be telling you this, but I literally begged him for it, Dyn. All his lectures and the doctors and the trouble it got me into at work, none of it mattered. Until the fire where Imogen was hurt and finally I realised what I was doing to myself and Connor, but mostly to Connor. _That's_ when I made the effort and started going to my meetings.'

'B-but you're b-better now.' Dynasty raised swollen blue eyes. 'Aren't you?'

Christine's smile was grim as she remembered the bottle in her drawer. 'Some days are better than others. I'm an addict, that doesn't go away. I can manage it, to a point. I can try to control it so that it doesn't control me… but it requires work. Constant, never-ending _work_. So be patient with Kace, you might find that there is no quick fix.' A bell sounded and she groaned. 'Damn, we're out of time. Where are you now?'

Dynasty was scrubbing fiercely at her eyes with a hanky. She glanced up. 'We're free, all of us five.'

'Five?'

The Head Girl's chin lifted. 'Yeah, five. 'Cos Lulu's one of us now, ain't she?'

'Well, thank God for that!' Christine's lips twitched when Dynasty gave an indignant toss of the head at her tone. 'Not a moment too soon either, h'mm? Now, go and get your things. And stay strong. Kacey needs you more than ever.'

Dynasty's smile was watery. 'Thanks, miss.' With the others streaming out it was time to return to formality. Her smile turned shy. 'You always help.'

Christine watched her dive into the swift-moving river of students but stayed where she was, her lips compressing as she watched for her next target. He was not long in coming—and for once she welcomed his fussing when he stopped dead at sight of her.

'What was that about?' her son demanded, jerking his head back towards her door. 'I was starting to worry when you didn't come back.'

'No need. Dynasty just needed to talk. It just took longer than expected.'

'Is she OK?'

Christine blew out a sigh. 'I hope so. It's not going to be easy and–well, she's already had a hell of a time. Which brings me to you, son.'

'Me?'

'You. Come here.' Now that her classroom was empty, Christine was able to pull him in. 'Sit down and tell me everything that happened with Kacey last week. Start from the beginning and don't leave anything out!'

* * *

**Dining Hall, 12.40pm**

* * *

'Well, I'm glad to see you look as if you're enjoying that!' Audrey placed her tray opposite Christine and the latter mentally rolled her eyes and skewered a mushroom with her fork. Fond as she was of the older woman, sometimes her enthusiasm could be wearing.

'They're not bad.' She felt guilty when her friend's expression fell. 'What do you want me to say? It's just … breaded mushrooms, it's hardly Michelin-star fare.'

'We made them ourselves.' Audrey sounded ridiculously proud. 'At Grantly House over the weekend, I mean. Maggie and I thought everyone could do with a distraction after last week so we took the children out foraging, brought them back, breaded them, cooked them …' She leaned forward. 'It worked wonders, Christine, absolute _wonders_. Especially for the Browns and Darren Hughes, all three were very upset after last Wednesday, poor things.'

Christine slammed down her fork. 'Really. Did either you or Maggie ask what _actually_ happened out there?'

Audrey looked reproachful. 'They told us it was an accident. Kacey tripped backwards over a log, they said.' She shook her head. 'At least some good has come of it, now Kacey's getting the help she needs.'

'Be that as it may, it doesn't excuse what those little monsters did! I'm not surprised they've been claiming it was just an accident, why wouldn't they when clearly you and Maggie have been fussing over them ever since instead of giving them the punishment they bloody well deserve!'

'Christine!' Audrey sounded shocked. 'That's not fair, how were we to know? Even Rhiannon—'

'Rhiannon wasn't there,' Christine snapped. 'As for how, it doesn't take much to work it out, Audrey! _Come on_! Darren Hughes, for Pete's sake. You're the one who was ready to lynch me some weeks back when you accused him of defacing Kacey's photo, you know as well as I do that he'd already been in trouble over name-calling. And as for Lisa Brown, I wouldn't trust that kid as far as I could throw her! You should've known better than to take anything either of those two said at face value!'

'Like you did?' Audrey's eyes sparkled with annoyance. 'As I remember, you defended them!'

'Yes, because I know them _and_ I know you! They'd insisted it was nothing to do with them and I'll give them this much, they're pretty vocal when they're genuinely innocent. You said yourself they've been upset—or don't you mean subdued? Guilty consciences, perhaps?'

The older woman held up her hands. 'Fine, you have a point. But I'm not the only one to blame. I'm their housemistress, but you're their form teacher. Why haven't you been investigating before now?'

Christine's lips pressed tight. 'I was off on Thursday, remember?'

Audrey's eyebrows went up. 'Yes. And Friday?'

Christine's lips pinched as she speared another mushroom and ate it without another word. Trust Audrey to say that, trust her to rub it in. She was already all too aware of her own failings in that regard, she didn't need—

'Oh, an argument. This sounds _juicy_!' Christine glared up at Hector, who was standing beside the table, that hateful grin-cum-smirk firmly in place. 'Is it just for you ladies or can anyone join in?'

Audrey looked stunned and Christine was just about to tell Hector what he could do when Sue tugged at his arm.

'Leave it, Hector. Come on—'

'Why don't you sit here?' Mika called across from the next table.

Christine watched as Sue seemed to waver, her gaze proclaiming her indecision. The older woman's eyes narrowed as remembered one part of Connor's story and she pointed at the empty seat beside her.

'No, you're OK, Sue. Sit. I want to ask you something.' The younger woman obeyed in silence while Hector took the seat opposite. Christine looked Sue up and down. 'Audrey and I are … _discussing_ … what happened last week.'

Sue blanched, confirming Christine's suspicions. 'I don't know anything about it, I was with Nikki and Mika the whole time!'

'Oh, absolutely,' Mika leaned across to say, and Christine looked at her. That was not an affirmation, Mika's tone positively dripped sarcasm.

'Indeed.' Christine's gaze shifted from Mika back to Sue. 'So. Anything you'd like to tell me?'

Hector leaned forward. 'Why does she need to tell you anything, Mrs … Mulgrew, isn't it? I don't remember seeing your name at the door.'

Christine ignored him.

'Come on, Sue. You're in trouble as it is, don't make it worse. Secrets don't work in this place, haven't you realised that yet?'

Sue flinched as if Christine had struck her. 'I—I—'

'Something about you and phones, I believe?'

Sue's complexion flamed and she turned on Mika. 'You promised you wouldn't say! That was our deal!'

'_Deal?_' Audrey interrupted. 'What deal?'

Christine threw her a look. 'Let me guess, h'mm? Mika, you've been seeing Simon and my guess is you've been trying to keep it quiet. In your fashion.' The younger woman started and Christine's laugh was scornful. 'Come on, did you really think Tom and I didn't know? We're neither of us _daft_ … or blind. As for you, Sue, Mika hasn't said anything. Connor told me that _none_ of the emergency phones given to his group worked. Now. I can believe a problem with one or even two, but three? That's a stretch. That was _your_ job—'

'And I messed up again, all right? Is that what you wanted to hear?'

Christine blinked. 'Sue—'

'Leave her alone, Mrs Mulgrew.' Hector's tone had lost its teasing joviality. 'You might've been Head last term, you're not now, it's none of your business—'

'It is when it was _my kids_ up there!' Christine hissed, leaning forward to give force to her words. 'Sue made a mistake, I understand that, but this can't be brushed under the carpet. A pupil nearly _died_ because of her negligence, no-one can expect the school to overlook that!'

'Do you think I don't know that?' Sue's question was a whispered scream. 'It wasn't just _your_ kids at risk, Christine! I've been beating myself up ever since, I can't stop thinking about it, I can't sleep—'

Christine straightened. 'Then you know what you've got to do.'

'Christine—' Audrey tried and Christine turned on her.

'No, Audrey! It's time _someone_ started taking responsibility around here!' She pushed her chair back. 'I'm doing my part this afternoon in taking Lisa and her partners in crime to task, I expect you and Maggie to back me up! As for you, Sue, you need to tell Simon everything—for your own sake, because if this comes out later and it looks like you've hidden it…' She whistled. 'God help you if Carol Barry ever gets hold of it. She'll run you out of the country. And the GTC?' She clicked her tongue. 'I can promise you'll never teach again and as things stand, well… It's not as if you can ask Simon or I for a reference for anything else, is it?'

'Just hold on—' Hector cut in and Christine's lips thinned.

'If you interrupt me one more time, Mr Reid—!'

'Christine, _please_.' Audrey again. 'Remember where we are, we've got an audience.' She gestured and Christine forced herself to calm down; it was a timely reminder. Their raised voices had attracted the attention of the whole hall and the kids were watching avidly.

She rose and moved the chair under the table with a audible crash, firing a glare at the room in general. Fortunately the kids took the hint and turned back to their own affairs, leaving Christine to finish with her colleagues.

'Fine. I won't say anything more. For now. But mark my words, Sue—you need to speak to Simon or I assure you, I _will_!'

* * *

**Mrs Mulgrew's classroom, 1.40pm**

* * *

'OK, there's the bell. Get to Science, you lot—not you, Lisa Brown, _or_ you, Darren Hughes. Or Shaznay.' Christine gestured at the row before her. '_Sit_.'

Lenny lingered at the door. 'Miss—?'

Christine summoned a smile she was far from feeling. The boy's eyes were anxious and after nearly a term as his form teacher she knew he was prone to panic attacks. 'It's all right, Lenny. I'll try not to keep them too long. Just let Miss Spark know, OK?'

He gave a tentative smile and wave and was gone, leaving Christine with her three miscreants, all of whom had taken characteristic positions in the row before Christine's big desk. Darren was leaning his seat back to the point where it only just avoided crashing against the desk behind, his eyes hooded. Lisa was hunched down in hers, her lank hair falling over her shoulders and a scowl gracing her face. And Shaznay … of the three, Shaznay looked the most guilty. She refused to meet Christine's eyes and her fingers pulled fretfully at the loom band on her wrist.

'So. I think it's time we had this out, don't you?' The three shifted and Christine sighed. 'Come on. I've heard various versions of what happened last week and now… now, I want to hear it from you.'

'Why d'you always hit on us?' Lisa spat. 'S'if no-one else ever gets into trouble!'

'OK, Lisa, since you want to talk, _talk_. I've heard less than pleasant things about you, young lady. I'm this close'—Christine pinched her fingers together—'to suggesting that Mr Lowsley call your grandfather in—'

'What's the point in that? He don't listen either!'

'He's your only responsible relative!' Christine retorted and immediately regretted it. She knew how the Brown twins worshipped the older brother who had looked after them until his arrest for drug dealing some months before. She sighed. 'Listen, I'm giving you a chance here, a chance to tell your side of the story._ What happened?_'

After much shuffling and several exchanged glances, it was Darren who began.

'It all started wiv them dumb photos of Miss McFall's, the one she said I wrote on when I never. Well, Lise said she knew who really did it and Kacey knew, so—'

'We waited til we stopped for lunch,' Shaznay took it up. 'Dynasty an' that were busy chasin' everyone else an' I saw Kace go off by 'erself, like. I said to Lise, I said that now were our chance when there was no-one about to 'ear, just in case she was wrong.'

'An' I weren't wrong, were I?' Lisa flipped a lanky lock over her shoulder and glowered up at Christine. 'Yous all think I'm daft, but I'm no' daft as ye think. I worked it out. If it weren't us or McFall or Year 8, there was only one person it could be—an' that were Kacey 'erself.'

'_Kacey_ wrote those things on her photograph?' Christine exclaimed, genuinely shocked. 'Are you _sure_?'

'Dead sure, miss. She admitted it when Lise said so.' Shaznay lifted her chin. 'Darren's a perv, but he's _our_ perv an' we knew he never done it.'

'Fine.' Christine made a mental note to pass that on to Audrey; the other woman now owed Darren Hughes an apology and she'd make damn sure he got it, regardless of his other sins. 'Well, I'm glad you've been able to clear your name, Darren. What happened next?'

Darren lifted his shoulders. 'We dunno, miss. Lise was … Lise was talkin' at her, an' she were backin' away, like, to get away from us. An' then the next thing she flipped back over sommat an'–an' she was gone, rollin' down that hill!' He shuddered and Christine, watching, decided that the shudder was genuine. 'I've never 'eard anything like them screams she were makin'—'

'So no-one pushed her?' Christine snapped. 'No-one shoved her, even a little? Her fall was entirely accidental?' Darren shuffled and she raised her eyebrows. 'Mr Hughes?'

'I uh, I might've jabbed 'er. But it weren't much, miss, it were just a jab!'

'Show me. Come on, come up and show me.'

Darren gawped. 'On _you_, miss? No way, Clarkson'd kill us—'

Christine bit into her lip in an effort to suppress a wildly inappropriate desire to laugh. 'Fine. Lisa. Come up and you can show me on her—assuming _she_ doesn't object and she won't, if she knows what's good for her.'

Duly warned, Lisa came up without protest and Darren demonstrated. Christine sighed; assuming all three were telling the truth, Darren was right. It _was_ just a jab in the chest, enough to shake you, perhaps, but not enough to fell a person. At least, not enough to fell a healthy person under normal circumstances…

'Right. Well, it seems that most of it was sheer bad luck.' The three before her visibly relaxed and Christine gave them a grim smile. 'Not so fast, you're not getting off the hook that easily—' She broke off, her grip on the desk edge tightening as a sharp cramping pain rippled through her abdomen, momentarily blocking out all else. 'I—' She let out the breath she hadn't realised she was holding and tried to ignore the cold sweat that had broken out across her forehead and down her back. 'At—at the very least, you've been guilty of bullying and this school has a—' She stopped as a second cramp went through her, biting so deep into her lip that she tasted blood.

'Miss, are you OK?' Shaznay sounded scared.

Christine made a huge effort. If she could just say what she needed to say she could get rid of them—and once they were gone, she could fall apart. She'd been a fool to think that her life could ever go well, that she'd ever be able to have what everyone else had, seemingly without trying…

She gritted her teeth and tried to speak as evenly as she could. 'Waterloo Road … has a zero-tolerance policy for … for bullying. Darren, you can go to Mr Lowsley. I wouldn't be surprised if he calls the police, what you did …' Her voice was starting to shake and the kids in front of her were looking increasingly alarmed. She didn't want their alarm, she couldn't handle it. They had to be given something else to think about, and fast, and then she could get rid of them…

'It was verging on assault,' she said, more harshly than she intended. 'Go! Shaznay, you've lost whatever free time you had between now and the end of term and I'll be sending a letter home to your mum. And Lisa—' She had to pause to dig the nails of one hand into the other, to distract herself from the meaty pain. 'Lisa, you're the same. And consider yourself house-gated. And … get out of my sight, the pair of you!'

They didn't need to be told twice, scuttling for the door almost as soon as the words were out of Christine's mouth. She didn't care; she was only barely aware of the slam of the door behind them as she lowered herself to the floor, wrapped her arms around herself and wept for the end of hope.

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**TBC**

_Trust me, folks. Just trust me! :)_

_And reviews are, as always, much wanted—especially after a chapter like this one. _


	37. Episode 9-3

**I'm expecting to get the final part of E9 up this week, which means we're bang on schedule again.**

**Monday's episode was pretty funny, I thought, even if I did want to shake Christine for her foot-in-mouth-itis with George. _Again_. I think she's a bit confused, actually. Connor's away, she's not Head, she's too old to join with the young staff and too young to settle down to Audrey's movie nights (I laughed at the stroppy teenager bit, that was genius)… she needs something to focus on, and fast!**

* * *

_**Paisley**: *evil grin* Somehow I don't think you're going to find this bit too reassuring, but … trust me. And I lol'd at your Sue/Hector comment. Sue's definitely coming back, but I'm still dithering over Hector._

_**Lori**: Thank you, that was a fantastic review! Re: AN, I lived with a dear friend who has/had it and was her main support by phone for several years after that. It was … intense. A lot of Dynasty's emotional response is first hand; I wish someone had been able to tell me some of what Christine tells Dynasty here. There'll probably be more of that coming, if it's not too triggery (I found writing it out helped more than anything). It's an awful thing to endure, either for yourself or to watch in someone you love—and it sounds as if you know that too. :(_

_**Niamhemiliee**: I knew you'd be spitting and I don't think you'll find this part very soothing either! If it helps, re-read the fic. There's some clues. Honestly._

_**Jessiekat89**: Read on!_

_**Guest**: Only Sue?! I think Sue got off pretty lightly last time!_

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**Miss Spark's room, 2.00pm**

* * *

Lenny glanced at the door while Mr Reid explained protons, neutrons and electrons, Miss Spark simpering nearby. They were nearly fifteen minutes into the lesson and still there was no sign of his sister. Why had Mrs Mulgrew kept her and the others so long? Lisa had swore blind that she'd nothing to do with Kacey's fall down the hill the week before, but Lenny had his suspicions and so, judging by her expression earlier, did their form teacher. He hoped his twin wasn't going to try pulling the wool over _her_ eyes; Mrs Mulgrew was no fool and anyway, she'd been good to them. They owed her something. If it wasn't for her they'd have found themselves thrown into care yet again.

'At last!' Miss Spark said sarcastically when the door opened and Lisa entered, followed closely by Shaznay. 'Where's Darren?'

'Mrs Mulgrew sent 'im to Mr Lowsley,' Lisa spat as she came to take her seat next to Lenny. 'Stupid old cow's got a right bee in 'er bonnet about somethin'.'

'Now, Lisa, you can't say things like that!' Miss Spark scolded, and Lenny tightened his grip on his pen. Anyone could see she was secretly pleased to hear Lisa badmouthing Mrs Mulgrew. 'For goodness' sake, get yourself sorted out and try to catch up. Mr Reid's kindly explaining the periodic table and you've nearly missed it all.'

Lisa rolled her eyes but obeyed, and the lesson resumed. When they'd been set an exercise Lenny nudged his twin.

'What did she say? Mrs Mulgrew?'

'House-gated, whatever that means. And she's writin' to Grandad.'

'So you _did_ have somethin' to do with it!' Lenny accused. 'Nice one, Lise! I asked you and you said you never!'

His twin reared back.

'What, you're gonna side with _her_? You're not even gonna think that maybe she got the wrong end of the stick?'

'You need to wise up,' he hissed. 'Get a grip. What's gonna happen to us if you get thrown out o' here, eh? Mrs M's on our side, remember!'

'Oooh, sorry, I _forgot_. You and your darlin' Christine!' Lisa exchanged a look with Shaznay and the pair sniggered.

Lenny could feel the heat rising in his cheeks.

'Don't be daft, it's not like that, yous are sick in the head. She's old enough to be our mum!'

Which was precisely the point. Lenny missed his own mother desperately, and since coming to Waterloo Road Mrs Budgen and Mrs Mulgrew had between them helped fill that void in their very different ways. Mrs Budgen was always ready with a big smile and a warm hug and Mrs Mulgrew … She'd helped him discover that he had both a voice and the right to use it, even (especially) when he disagreed with his domineering sister.

Still embarrassed, he deliberately turned away from the girls and tried to understand the questions they'd been set. It was wasted effort and he glanced up, hoping to catch Mr Reid's eye. It was futile as the new teacher was engrossed in whatever Miss Spark was saying. Lenny sighed and began to return to his textbook—only to catch sight of his form teacher bent over the balustrade, looking as if she was clinging to it for dear life.

'Lise—' He elbowed his twin and pointed to the window through which Mrs Mulgrew could be glimpsed. 'Shouldn't we do somethin'?'

'She'll be fine, it's nothin' to do with you.' She glanced at the clock and sighed. 'And anyway, the bell's gonna go any minute and you'll see your beloved Mrs Mulgrew then. You can bet she'll be there, ready to make our lives even more of a misery!'

'That's not fair, she looks sick!' Lenny jumped to his feet and Miss Spark glared. 'Sir, miss, you've gotta do somethin'! It's Mrs Mulgrew—'

'I tried tellin' him, miss,' Lisa said virtuously and Lenny threw her a dirty look.

Miss Spark crossed to the door and opened it. She turned back, eyebrows raised. 'There's no-one there.'

'What? But she was just _there_!' Lenny shot out past his science teacher—only to find that she was correct. The hall was empty. 'I'm not lyin', she was standin' right here, she looked _awful_!'

'I'm sure Mrs Mulgrew will be delighted to know how concerned you are,' Miss Spark told him impatiently. 'Come on, the bell's going to go and you need to take down your homework.'

Seeing no help for it he obeyed, but when the bell finally did go he was first to shoot out of the science lab and around the corner in his form teacher's room, his heart sinking when he found it empty.

He dumped his bag at his usual place and turned on his sister when she entered. 'See!'

'For god's sake, Lenny! She's probably just… I dunno, gone to use the photocopier or somethin'!'

'She never does that,' Lenny pointed out. He leaned forward. 'What if somethin' happened? You know … with the baby?'

'Honestly, you're such a drama queen.' Lisa dropped into her own seat and folded her arms. 'Just sit down, will ye, and calm down. You're makin' a right pillock o' yerself.'

Realising that he was wasting his time, Lenny subsided, his feet tapping the floor in an agitated rhythm. She might have a point, he admitted to himself. Maybe Mrs Mulgrew _had_ just gone to the office … Sonya would know. He'd give her another few minutes and then he'd investigate no matter what Lisa said.

Accordingly, when nearly quarter of an hour had passed and there was still no sight of their English teacher, Lenny got to his feet. The class quietened, watching him with interest.

He lifted his chin. 'I'm goin' to find out what's happenin'.'

'Swot,' Lisa hissed under her breath as he walked past. 'Teacher's pet, that's what you are.'

He swallowed and kept on going. This was the right thing to do, he knew it. Once the door had closed behind him he threw appearances to the wind and ran down the stairs towards the office door where he collided with Sonya, who grabbed at him when he tried to pant an explanation.

'Calm down you, you'll be givin' yourself an asthma attack at this rate.' She ushered him in. 'Sit down. I'll get you a drink—'

He shook her off. 'I'm fine, _honest_, it's just… Have you seen Mrs Mulgrew?'

'Mrs Mulgrew?' The secretary paused. 'No. Isn't she teaching now?'

'Yeah.' He had to stop to catch his breath. 'She's supposed to be teachin' us but she never showed up—'

'That's not like Christine,' he heard Sonya mutter and his heart missed a beat. The secretary gave him a wide smile and placed a drink in front of him. 'Never you worry, I'll sort it out. Drink up and get lost, someone'll be with you in no time.'

'But—'

'Go!' She pointed to the door and tried to glare, not very successfully. Lenny's attempt at further argument was cut off when the phone rang and Sonya went to answer it, quickly becoming absorbed in the needs of her caller.

Lenny sighed and left the office. He wasn't convinced Sonya had taken him seriously and neither had Miss Spark … but Mr Clarkson might.

* * *

**Mr Clarkson's room, 2.40pm**

* * *

Tom shifted in his seat, aware that the slow passing of time was frustrating him nearly as much as his pupils, but at least he had the advantage—or otherwise—of counting off every stroke of the clock which hung at the opposite end of the classroom. Nearly quarter to three, another half hour to go and then he and Christine could start to sort this mess out. He couldn't wait; his pulse lurched with every sound, his mouth was dry and his hands clammy. He could hardly think straight, let alone come up with a convincing lecture on the _Duchess of Malfi_. Which left only one thing for it…

'Here's your homework for next week,' he announced, turning to write _Discuss the different levels of disguise found in the Duchess of Malfi_ on the board. The class groaned loudly. 'Stop complaining, you lot. This is the kind of thing you could face in the exam, at least I'm not expecting you to exercise your brains over it by yourselves. Take ten minutes to draft a plan and exchange it with your neighbour, see if they have different ideas.' He glanced at the clock again and sighed; the hand was creeping with agonising slowness towards ten-to. 'Time starts—_now_!'

Year 12 grumbled but settled to the job quickly enough, and Tom was able to sink back into a happy daze. If Christine was eating again perhaps she'd like to go out for dinner. Connor and Imogen would be delighted to have the house to themselves, he was sure. If—_if!_—he and Christine could resolve some of their issues perhaps the time would be right to broach the subject of the little velvet box…

A timid knock roused him from his reverie and he beckoned Lenny Brown in. 'Lenny. What can I do for you?' A vague recollection of the time-table tickled his memory. 'Shouldn't you be with Mrs Mulgrew?'

'That's why I'm here, sir.' Out of the corner of his eye Tom saw Connor lift his head. 'She's s'posed to be teachin' us now, but she's not come!'

'At _all_?'

Lenny shook his head. 'I tried the office too, an' Sonya says she hasn't seen her, and she's not in the staff-room… I dunno where else to look!'

'Did you get Sonya to try the toilets?' Dynasty called, and Tom threw her a grateful look. He'd been too stunned by Lenny's announcement to even think of it.

The Year 10 boy shook his head. 'She didn't really listen to us, the phone rang—'

Dynasty rose. 'I'll take 'im to the ladies' now, will I?'

Tom managed to swallow the lump of solid fear that had settled in his throat. 'Thanks, Dyn.' He pulled his features into something he hoped resembled a reassuring smile. 'Let us know, will you?'

'She's not answerin' her phone,' Connor said and Tom's stomach lurched, but he held up his hands.

'Let's not panic yet, OK? Dynasty, go with Lenny. I'll go to Chris—Mrs Mulgrew's room now. The rest of you, just stick with this until the bell goes, Miss Boston's next door—'

'I saw her in science,' Lenny blurted into the middle of Tom's efforts at calm. 'Mrs M, I mean. She was leaning over the rail, she looked dead sick, sir, but Miss Spark wouldn't believe us when I told her.'

All the strength went out of Tom's legs at that and he collapsed limply into his seat. Dynasty put a hand on Lenny's shoulder and propelled him from the room, calling back that she'd see him in Christine's room.

After staring at the wood grain of his desk for an endless while Tom stumbled to his feet. 'I, I have to go, Year 10'll be tearing the place up—'

'You're not gonna go looking for my mum?' Connor sounded aghast. 'Anything could've have happened, she's still not answerin' her phone—'

'I'm Deputy Head, I have to go to Year 10,' Tom repeated numbly. 'Your mum would understand that better than anyone.'

''Course, stupid me, work comes first, eh?' Connor spat. 'Thought you were supposed to be _different_ from Byrne. You can do what you like, mate, but I'm goin'. I'm not leavin' Dynasty to look for my mum by herself!' He lifted his bag and stormed out, followed by Imogen who flashed Tom a glance that could almost be described as apologetic.

'If you're going, you'd better go, sir,' Kevin pointed out. 'Like you said, Year 10'll be runnin' wild. We'll be good here, won't we?'

A gentle murmur of agreement from the class at large gave Tom the strength to rise, clumsily pulling his books into his briefcase. The lump in his throat seemed to become larger and harder as he caught a glimpse of the soft sheen of the velvet covered box, and he had to blink to clear his eyes from the dampness gathering there. He couldn't show the kids how upset and scared he was, even if they _were_ practically adults…

'Sir?' Louisa's voice made him pause at the door. 'Look after yourselves. We'll be thinking about you.'

Tom gulped. 'Thanks.'

Later he could never remember how he got to Christine's room. All he knew was his profound disappointment when he opened the door and found Year 10 behaving like hooligans as predicted; until then he'd hoped against hope that Christine would greet him with a raised eyebrow and send him on his way with a wry comment—but no such luck.

He gained some refuge from his emotions by terrorising 10M into silence. At ten past three, Dynasty returned with a downcast Lenny.

Tom bounded to his feet. 'Did you—'

Dynasty gave a single shake of her head. 'She's not there.'

_God, oh god_…. Once again he collapsed into his seat, dropping his head into his hands and raking his fingers through his hair. What had happened? He pulled out his own phone and pushed Christine's name.

It rang out.

He sat and watched the second hand tick its way through five rounds.

The bell rang for the end of school and it was Dynasty who chivvied Year 10 out; Tom could only sit and stare blankly at the screen of his mobile.

When he was alone he tried again. And again. And again.

On the fifth try someone answered.

'Christine?'

It was not Christine. It was Connor.

* * *

**Mulgrew Household, 3.20pm**

* * *

'Mum? _Mum_!'

'At least the car's here,' Imogen commented and Connor threw a distracted glance in her direction. 'Whatever it is, it can't be that bad if she was able to drive home.'

'Yeah.' He couldn't disagree with that, but it did nothing to ease the strangling fear welling within him. He swallowed hard and pointed to the kitchen. 'Let's try—'

Imogen brushed past him, her pressure on the door pouring a pool of light into the dark hall. Connor blinked.

'She's not here,' his wife called. 'There's no sign she was ever here, everything's just as we left it this morning—no, wait. There's a pile of dishes in the sink.'

'Dishes?!' Connor stuck his head around the door. 'What di—_Oh_.' All at once he couldn't speak; the little pile of crockery indicated that his mum had tried to make herself a proper breakfast for once. He came forward to inspect a bowl, grimacing at the congealed bits of egg around its rim. 'She did listen.'

'Huh?'

'This morning. I had a go at her, told her she had to realise we love her and we're only worried about her—' He couldn't continue, twisting away from the sink and its contents, away from Imogen's concerned gaze, and headed for the stairs. When he reached the top he almost fell headlong over his mum's big black handbag and he grabbed it, holding it to his chest.

'Mum!'

No response.

Still clutching the bag, he stumbled towards his mother's bedroom, kicking the door open. It bounced back against the wall, denting the plaster, but Connor wasn't thinking of that. His attention was focused on his mum, lying in a crumpled heap on the carpet, apparently unconscious. The handbag slipped from nerveless fingers as he flung himself beside her, gently turning her over so that she lay on her back. The smell that wafted towards him as he did so made him recoil; it was sharp and sour and gut-churningly familiar.

'You found her,' Imogen said unnecessarily from the door.

His throat was so stretched and taut inside it hurt to say, 'She's been drinkin'.'

'What?' His wife came closer. 'Did she pass out? Do we need an ambulance?'

Annoyance boiled as Connor realised she hadn't heard. He turned his head, just enough to allow her to lipread. 'I _said_, she's been drinking. She doesn't need an ambulance, she's brought this on herself—_as usual_.'

Imogen was edging around his mother, choosing her steps with catlike consideration as she studied the scene before her. All at once she swooped.

'She can't have drunk much, Con, there's a glass here. It's a bit smashed, but there's vodka around it. Quite a lot of it, too, judging from the carpet.' She lifted her head to look at him. 'Did you find a bottle?'

'A bottle—' His heart thumping painfully, Connor tried to relax as he forced his eyes to seek the out the well-known and much-loathed shape. Imogen was moving his mum into the recovery position, he couldn't bear to go near her, but if his wife thought it was important to find the bottle… Finally, he spotted it, lurking underneath one of the bedside cabinets. He made a long arm and grabbed it, his brows coming together when he saw that not only was it more than half full, but the cap was tightly screwed. 'What—?'

'_Urrghh_…' Imogen wiped a hand on the carpet. 'Oh, my god. Connor, you've got to call Tom, you've got to call the doctor _now_—'

Right on cue a phone rang, but Connor ignored it.

'Call the doctor for a _hangover_?' he snapped, his fury returning full force. 'Waste of time, tried that before.'

His wife was shaking his head. 'I think we've got this all wrong. I think she _was_ drinkin', but she can't have had much. Not enough for— There's all that vodka and…' Her expression twisted. 'I've just stuck my hand in a pile of sick and she hasn't moved once.' She gestured towards the bottle Connor had dropped. 'That's too full for a drinking binge … There's somethin' else going on.' Her eyes went wide. 'Connor … what if she's miscarrying?'

'_No_.' He shook his head. 'No, she said she was gonna be careful—'

'It would explain everything! She'd be so upset, she really wanted this kid. If she thought she was losing it that'd be enough to send her back to the bottle, you know it would—'

'It can't happen,' Connor insisted through stiff lips. 'It can't. It _won't_.' He crawled back to his mother's side. She was white to the lips and he stroked a finger down her cheek. 'Wake up, Mum. You've got to wake up. I'm so sorry, please wake up and tell us you're OK, you and Squirt—'

Once again came the annoying jangle of a mobile's ringtone, and Connor's brain creaked into gear as he recognised it. That was his mum's phone; perhaps it was Tom. Imogen was right, if this wasn't just the effects of too much alcohol they'd delayed long enough… His hands shook as he fumbled through his mother's bag, coming dangerously close to tears of relief when his fingers closed about the smooth plastic curves of her iPhone.

He lifted it.

'Christine?' Tom sounded frantic, but never had his voice been so welcome to Connor's ears.

'Tom, it's me.' He had to stop to pull himself together, to speak clearly instead of shrieking. 'We've found her, we're at home … but you—you have to come now, mate. And… and … bring a doctor.'

* * *

_**TBC**_

_**Don't forget to review!**_


	38. Episode 9-4

_**Here's the last bit of Episode 9! It's a bit shorter than usual but one of the earlier parts of this episode was longer, so it evens out. I could have added more, but I thought that this says all that needs to be said … for now. *smirk* I hope you enjoy…**_

* * *

**Niamhemiliee**: Clues or red herrings? *G* I know, it's starting to look like there's going to be no Christine/George. My only consolation is that they must sort their friendship out if nothing else—did you see the interview with Laurie Brett where she was asked where she sees Christine five years from now? Answer: on a beach with George sipping non-alcoholic cocktails. I might actually write that. That could be fun.

**Guest**: Thank you! Hope you enjoy this chapter as much.

**Paisley**: How can I do this? Because it's fun. Well, not for Christine but it's certainly fun for me getting the outraged responses! Yeah, Vaughan has improved. I still don't like him but I mind him less when Olga's around. She has a talent for pricking his pomposity which makes him more bearable. Also, he's finally waking up to the fact that he has an invaluable resource in Christine and that it would be sheer idiocy to waste it! Whether that means she officially becomes DH is another thing—the interview I mentioned above indicates not—but Lorna's clearly hiding something and I wouldn't be surprised to see Christine ultimately doing the job by default, even if she doesn't have the title.

**Lori**: I know! I think Christine's spent so long thinking of George as 'a dear friend' that she hasn't seriously considered him as anything else. I will admit I was initially dubious about C/G but his reaction when she fell off the wagon in 9.19 totally converted me so fingers crossed! 10b is looking to be excellent, which makes it all the more annoying it's the last.

**Jessiekat**: Hopefully this part explains what was going on in Christine's head. If not, say and I will change it so that it does make sense.

* * *

_**If anyone other than the lovely lot above is reading this please do take the time to let me know what you think!**_

_And now, on with the show. Is Christine miscarrying ...?_

* * *

**Mulgrew Household, 3.45pm**

* * *

'Mum! _Mu-u-u-m_…'

The call echoed around Christine's barely conscious brain and she winced.

'She's coming round!' she heard Imogen say. 'Come on, Christine, open your eyes!'

Why did her daughter-in-law sound so worried?

'Mum?'

Christine peered at her son through half-closed lids, her heart skipping a beat when she saw how white he looked. He looked as if—as if he'd been crying.

She tried to moisten her lips. 'What—what happened?'

His mouth twisted downwards in a shape she knew all too well. 'You were drinking.'

'What? No, Connor, I—' She broke off when he held the bottle in front of her and moved her head so that she need not to look at him. 'It was only…' She paused as she realised there was a gap in her memory. Something important. 'Only a glass,' she went on. 'And then I'm not sure what happened…' She lifted a hand to her throbbing head. 'Did I hit myself?'

Connor's eyes widened. 'Mum, what's the last thing you remember?'

She stared at the ceiling, trying to think. 'I'm not sure. I-I had a glass, just a shot, and then… everything went strange. I don't mean drunk strange, I mean _really_ strange. It was like the alcoholic hepatitis, my heart was going really fast, I was breaking out in sweats, I thought I was going to be sick—'

'You _were_,' Imogen cut in and Christine blinked up at her, disconcerted by the interruption. Her daughter-in-law leaned closer, dark hair falling forward around her face. 'Christine… why did you walk out of school?'

Full recall returned and Christine bolted upright, giving a moan when her head responded with a particularly vicious throb. Connor caught her by the shoulders.

'Hey, you can't do that, especially if you've banged your head—Im, give us a pillow—'

'Connor! _Christine_!' Tom's frantic voice made her moan again, but softly. 'Connor, where are you?'

'Mum's room!' Connor yelled, and his mother cringed.

'Don't, _please_—'

Imogen had come to lay the pillow down, but when Connor tried to push Christine back she clung to his wrists, resisting the pressure. As a result she was still sitting up—after a fashion—when Tom burst in, his coat hanging off, his hair wild and his eyes wilder.

'Chris—' He crossed the room in three bounds and tried to pull her close, but Connor stopped him.

'Don't, mate, she's just woke up, she's not … she's not completely with it.'

Tom sank back onto his heels. 'What happened?'

When Connor remained quiet Christine realised it was time to face the music**.** She raised her eyes to meet her partner's anxious gaze.

'I—I walked out of school. I'm sorry, I'll tell Simon, I'll accept whatever disciplinary measures he wants to impose—'

'As if that matters!' Tom interrupted roughly.

'Let me tell it my own way,' she told him tightly. She drew her knees up and clasped her hands on top, resting her forehead on her knuckles. 'I walked out of school, I drove home, I—I came up here and took a bottle of vodka I confiscated last week from Darren Hughes … and I poured myself a glass. A shot. I knocked it back—'

'You kn—_Christine!_ What the bloody hell were you thinking? You're pregnant, for god's sake!'

Unseen by her audience, she closed her eyes against the tears that were starting to leak. Somehow she managed to continue steadily. 'As I told Connor, everything went … strange after that. I, I must've fainted, I don't remember anything more until a few minutes ago.'

'But why did you leave school in the first place?' Imogen pressed.

Christine expelled a shuddering breath. 'Because…' Her mouth pursed as she tried to stop the quivering. 'Because … I started cramping. And when I checked, there was blood. Not much, but …' She looked up at Tom, her jaw tight. 'So it doesn't matter any more. About me drinking. It won't hurt the baby … because there _is_ no baby. It's gone.'

He sat down abruptly, his eyes a startlingly vivid blue in his suddenly white face.

'So …' She swallowed hard. 'If you want to go, now's your chance. There's nothing keeping you here.'

'Chris … ' Once again he reached for her and this time she did not draw away, but neither did she relax into his arms. She did not dare; this was the final straw for them, she was sure of it.

He drew away, his hands sliding down to rest on her shoulders. 'Why didn't you tell me? When it started?'

Christine sniffed, her lips trembling as her composure threatened to disintegrate altogether. She shook her head, refusing to speak, and the warm pressure on her arms increased before it vanished altogether, leaving her skin prickling from the cold. Despite her best efforts, a sob escaped.

But Tom wasn't finished with her yet. He took her hands in his.

'Come on, love, let's get you to bed. Doc's on his way, we'll see what he says, eh?'

She nodded, allowing him to pull her to her feet. Between pain and emotion and alcohol she was shattered, more shattered even than she'd been on her return from hospital the week before. She'd known a visit from the doctor was inevitable. What else could they do, after all? Not that it would make any difference.

Tom put his arm around her as he guided her to the bed and she let him, relishing the kindness of his touch for these next few precious moments. The doorbell rang and Connor went to get it while Tom helped her undress and Imogen struggled to clear some of the mess from the floor.

Christine's head was fuzzy; she was no longer clear about the cause. Nor did she particularly care. Her eyes were heavy to the point of discomfort … Faced with an unpalatable reality that could only get worse, she took thankful refuge in the dark.

* * *

**Mulgrew Household, 4.45pm**

* * *

A rush of adrenaline sent Tom surging to his feet from his place at the top of the stairs when Christine's bedroom door opened.

'Well? What's the verdict?' he demanded before the doctor had closed the door behind him. 'How is she?'

Connor and Imogen had come to Connor's bedroom door, their fingers intertwined. The doctor looked from Tom to them and back, his craggy face creasing in a frown.

'They need to know too,' Tom said, anticipating his objection. 'Connor's Christine's son—'

The doctor's expression cleared. 'Ah, yes, the son.' He looked Connor up and down. 'You seem like fine young man—'

'He _is_,' Imogen insisted. 'Christine wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him, I can go if you want, if doctor-patient confidentiality is getting in the way, but anything you tell Tom you have to tell Connor.'

Tom found his voice. 'She right.' He glance at Christine's door. 'Is she—?'

'I think she's sleeping,' the doctor said. 'Look, if you all wanna hear this is there somewhere we can go to talk?'

Tom nodded and lead the little cavalcade down the stairs and into the kitchen, where he shut the door firmly once everyone was in. Connor and Imogen settled themselves at the table and Tom and the doctor followed suit.

Connor was first off the mark.

'Should she be sleeping if she's hit her head?'

'From what she says, the drowsiness occurred before the knock on the head, so I think it's better to let her sleep—provided someone will check on her overnight?'

'I will,' Tom and Connor offered simultaneously and Tom sighed, gesturing towards the younger man.

'I think it should be you, mate.' He glanced at the doctor. 'What about—do you know if …' His throat tightened and it was a struggle to get out, 'Is she miscarrying?'

The doctor sighed. 'It's hard to tell.' His eyes narrowed. 'Something about it isn't sitting quite with me … She could be.' He studied each of them in turn, and Tom's fists clenched under the table. 'With Mrs Mulgrew's history, this was always going to be a high-risk pregnancy, you know. If I'd been consulted I'd've advised against it, but—'

'You _were_,' Tom interrupted, confused. 'She went to see you in January when we started talking about it.'

There was a pause.

'Did she?' The doctor shook his head. 'I don't recall, perhaps she saw one of the women doctors.'

_Or she didn't go at all_, Tom thought with a sinking heart. _Perhaps she anticipated what the doctor would say and decided she didn't want to hear it. _Not that it mattered as unbeknownst to them both she was already pregnant by then.

'One way or another, the next few days will tell the tale,' the doctor continued. 'She's—how far?'

'Ten, eleven weeks, something like that.' Tom put his fingers through his hair. 'If you're not sure isn't there something you can do? Admit her … _anything?_'

The grey eyes facing his were kind. 'Mr Clarkson, a significant percentage of pregnancies end before the three month mark, and the probability of that rises with age and a number of other factors. Your—your partner—'

'Fiancée,' Tom interrupted, ignoring the startled glances coming from the young people. If it wasn't true now it soon would be, he was sure of it. 'She's my fiancée.'

The doctor ignored him.

'Mrs Mulgrew is having symptoms that _could_ indicate a miscarriage is under way. However … there's some hope. From what she says the pain has subsided and there's no significant bleeding—a wee bit of bleeding early on isn't unusual. I've told her I want her to stay in bed for the next few days and we'll take it from there. At this point … it sounds brutal, Mr Clarkson, but _if_ she's miscarrying now there's probably a reason for it and it's best to let nature take its course.'

Tom's jaw was tight but he managed to summon a smile for Imogen when the young woman reached across to squeeze his hand. 'Is—is there anything we should watch out for? Anything we can do?'

'If the pain comes back or the bleeding becomes excessive, get her to A&amp;E. And,' the older man added, looking at them sternly, 'for God's sake make sure that woman doesn't touch alcohol again, pregnant or not.'

'She won't,' Connor said in a hard tone.

'That's everything, then.' The doctor rose. 'You know where I am. Give it a week or so and get yourselves sorted out with a scan and we'll know where we are for sure. But there's something not right—' He shook his head.

'Could it have been something she ate?' Connor asked suddenly and Tom exchanged a puzzled glance with Imogen.

The doctor looked interested. 'Such as?'

'Mushrooms. Fresh mushrooms, just foraged at the weekend.'

Tom had been in the process of rising to show the doctor out. Now he sat down with a thump, his heart skittering in his chest. 'Explain,' he barked.

'I just remembered.' Connor leaned forward. 'A while ago I was doin' some reading, just getting some ideas for recipes and stuff. There was something about mushrooms. Everyone knows some are poisonous, but poisonous doesn't need to mean you'll die.' Tom blinked; the younger man sounded genuinely enthusiastic—certainly more enthusiastic than he'd been in English for a good while. 'It can mean a tummy upset, with cramps and that. And somethin' else, there's a mushroom that doesn't like booze. _Really_ doesn't like booze.'

'Tippler's bane, by God,' the doctor said, sounding as stunned as Tom felt. 'It's a bit early for it, but …' He grinned, startling Tom. He'd come to believe that the dour man was incapable of such levity. 'Well done, Mr Mulgrew. Very, very well done. I think you may have hit the nail on the head … Hold on.' He pulled out his phone and Tom held his breath while he stabbed at it. 'Yup. Here we go, dizziness, palpitations, tiredness, tingling, flushed skin—and the symptoms increase in proportion to the alcohol consumed. Just as well she stopped at the one shot, eh?'

Tom had been holding his breath for so long that he was starting to turn dizzy himself. 'So what are you saying? She might not be miscarrying at all?' He gave a disbelieving laugh. 'All this … it's just something she _ate_?'

'I knew something wasn't adding up,' the doctor told him, moustache twitching. 'I would caution you against undue optimism; Mr Mulgrew _may_ be correct in which case Mrs Mulgrew should be herself in the next day or two—but equally she may not. Either way I stand by my recommendation of a couple of days of bed-rest,' he added when Tom opened his mouth. 'Doesn't hurt to take a wee bit of care, does it now?'

'Thanks, man.' Tom held out his hand. 'Seriously.'

'It's my job.' The two men shook and the doctor looked around them. 'She's a lucky lass that Mrs Mulgrew, with all of you looking out for her.' They followed him out to the hall, with Tom opened the door. 'Take care all, and give us a shout if you need me.' He turned one last time, beady eye lighting upon each of them in turn. 'And for God's sake remember what I said and keep her off the drink!'

* * *

_**TBC**_

_**Next time: It's the last day of term and Tom and the younger Mulgrews are optimistic, but Christine's fatalistic. At school, Sue's delighted to be told that she's going to go solo once again, and starts planning a very special lesson...**_


	39. Episode 10-1

_Agh, I can't win. __**Lori**__ complains about the mushrooms, and __**Paisley**__ and __**Niamh**__ refuse to enjoy the possibility that Christine hasn't miscarried after all! :D:D I don't know whether to be amused or offended at the cynicism coming from you two… However, thank you all three for your reviews. They are always very much appreciated—and also for your comment, __**Lori**__, about the speed of recent updates. I'd hoped to get two updates out this week but professional writing commitments got in the way!_

_Sue fans should enjoy this bit!_

* * *

**Mulgrew Household, 7.45am**

* * *

Christine's lips pursed tightly as she stood before her long mirror and struggled to button her black jacket. Today would be her first full day back at Waterloo Road since the week before and she wanted to end the term on a good note—and that meant reclaiming her life, reclaiming her body, and putting the miscarriage behind her. Dressing the part was a tangible way of putting the resolution into practice.

Or so she told herself.

The corners of her mouth trembled when she saw the unsightly gapes as the buttons strained to hold the edges together. Perhaps it was too soon to go back to professional garb. It would be several weeks before her body returned to its pre-pregnancy state, she should choose something else for now and leave the suits until next term. Surely the three weeks they'd have off would be time enough …

'That doesn't look very comfortable,' Tom commented as he stood behind her, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders.

Her lips twitched as she flipped the top button free. 'It's not. It's still … it's still too tight.'

She could feel his sigh as a warm breath through her hair.

'Chris, why can't you—'

She turned. 'Why can't I—_what_? Pretend everything's OK like the rest of you? You've all just swallowed that—that fairy story of Connor's, but I … I _know_ what I felt!'

'So go for a scan and find out for sure,' Tom told her with the sweet reasonableness she'd come to hate. 'The doctor said it was the only way to know.'

Her head dipped. 'I had _cramps_, Tom! Cramps _and_ bleeding, classic signs of miscarriage right there. I don't need a scan to tell me that!'

'The doctor explained the bleeding. The cramps … well, you didn't have any more of those after the first, did you?' He shrugged. 'My guess is you were already feeling the effects of those bloody mushrooms.' His jaw tightened. 'I'm still planning on having words with Audrey and Maggie about that—'

Exasperated and heartsick at his wilful blindness, Christine twitched away from his grasp, shrugging out of the ill-fitting jacket and reaching for the forgiving comfort of her old grey cardigan. Why couldn't he see how his insistence was hurting her? Why was he so determined on sticking to this convenient explanation of Connor's? She could understand why her son and daughter-in-law were desperate to find a reason for her symptoms beyond the glaringly obvious, but Tom was (or should be) old enough to know better.

'There's no telling you, is there,' she muttered as they bumped shoulders at her dressing table. She was looking for her amber ring and he was fumbling for his watch.

Their gazes collided in the dressing table mirror. 'Or you. '

'So you're going to wait another month before giving up hope?' she snapped. 'Wait for my periods to come back? That's not a good guide, they haven't been regular this last year. And in the meantime—' Her throat closed, cutting off the rest of the words she so nearly flung at him: _and in the meantime you're gonna leave me to grieve for Squirt alone when I need your support more than ever …_

But she couldn't say it. She'd never been able to ask for help; not from her parents, not from her husband, only rarely from her son. Alcohol had papered over the cracks by temporarily blocking out the pain but now … She couldn't forget the look on Connor's face last week as he bent over her. Couldn't forget the betrayal in his eyes as he held up the bottle of vodka. No matter how she longed for it, she could not seek solace there.

'Christine.' Tom pulled her down on the bed. 'Why can't you hold on to the little bit of hope we've been given?'

She shook her head, furious when the tears came. She couldn't start crying now, if she did she'd never stop.

He pulled her into a hug.

'Maybe you're right, love,' she heard him say. 'Maybe we have lost Squirt. But why put yourself through the hell of assuming it before we know for sure? Why not get it confirmed? Chris, it's cruel to keep us all wondering!'

'_Cruel?_' She tore herself away from him, defensively crossing her arms over her chest. 'I'll tell you what's bloody cruel, and that's insisting over and _over_ that there's some hope when there's none! Do you have any idea what it was like for me last week, feeling those pains and knowing that I'd failed—_again_?' He tried to speak but she rattled on; at least anger had burned away the tears. 'And the rest of you going on and _on_ about how I must be wrong, how it's probably the mushrooms … Why put myself through the hell of assuming a miscarriage, you say? Why put myself through the hell of hoping only to have my hopes dashed a second time!'

'I—' Tom sighed, his shoulders slumping. All at once he seemed older. 'I'm sorry. I didn't realise.'

'No. No, you didn't!' Christine would have moved away but when Tom put his arm around her she did not resist. She didn't want to fight, she was sick of fighting. He might not understand but at least he was _there_.

All the same, it was a relief from the lingering awkwardness that still lay between them when Connor yelled up to say it was after eight and time they were moving.

'Someone needs to tell him _we're_ the adults,' Tom commented sourly as they separated to finish getting ready. 'I'm tired of getting lectured by a seventeen year old.'

'H'mm. Welcome to my world.'

Their smiles were cautious, uncertain gifts to each other—but Tom's faded as he took in her footwear.

'Can you walk in those?' he asked, pointing at the three-inch heels.

She turned, a hand going to her hip and her lips pursing in renewed annoyance. 'And? Are you going to start telling me how to dress?'

He had the sense to keep quiet at that and Christine gave a grim smile as she followed him out of their room and down the stairs. She might not be able to wear the jacket that went with her suit, but at least she could assert herself in this very small, very simple matter of wearing almost-killer heels. Heels that she would never dream of wearing whilst pregnant—but heels that did more than anything else to bolster her spirits as she contemplated the coming day.

* * *

**Spark-Bain Household, 8.15am**

* * *

'So, Susie.' Louisa's grandfather put his cutlery across his plate and stared across the table, his hands clasping as his elbows moved to rest on the surface in open defiance of his own strictures on good manners. 'Tell me. When are you going to sort out this stupid row with Simon, eh? I miss that lad. I want him home.'

Louisa glanced furtively at her aunt through her lashes. Sue continued eating her breakfast, not acknowledging her father by word or look, and Louisa's brow furrowed. There'd been something different about the older woman these past few weeks, and she still couldn't put her finger on it.

'Susie!'

Before Sue could answer, the dining room door opened and Louisa's twin entered. Their grandfather ignored her in favour of glaring at his stubbornly silent daughter—but then, he'd always been uneasy around Emily.

_What's wrong?_ Emily signed with one hand as she took her seat.

Louisa put her hands under the table so that the adults could not see. _Gramps is going on at Sue. About Simon._

The other girl's eyes—so like Louisa's own—skated to Sue and back. She gave a slight but expressive shrug and tucked into her own breakfast.

Louisa stared at her until she looked up.

_What?_

This time Louisa's hands were emphatic under the table. _Don't you care?_

Her twin's brow contracted. _What's your problem, it's nothing to do us. It's _their_ life!_ Her exasperation expressed itself in muffled vocalisation, and Louisa stiffened as aunt and grandfather turned to look at them.

Gramps's expression darkened.

'Emily,' he barked. 'You're at home, now, lass. With normal people. I don't want to see you doing any of that deaf mumbo-jumbo handwaving, eh? You've got a voice, so use it!'

'_Dad!_' Sue protested. 'You can't say things like that!'

'Don't you start.' Gramps helped himself to more coffee. 'All that PC codswallop, it cuts no ice with me. She's a bright girl with a good family behind her, she can take her place in the real world if she wants. That—that signing, it'll only hold her back.'

'Actually, it's considered a useful skill,' Louisa interjected sweetly. She began to sign as she spoke, knowing that Emily often struggled to follow the swiftness of conversation around the table when they were all seated along one side, as was the case this morning. 'Being fluent in BSL and SSE gives her more options, not less.'

'Plus, how I communicate, that's my choice,' Emily said for herself, her eyes sparkling angrily. 'It's my life, Gramps. Yeah, I've got a good family behind me. A good hearing family that never really _gets_ me. I'm not like you, I'll never be like you, there's no point in pretending to be hearing because it's just a lie! Lulu and me, we've had enough of lies from you all these years—'

_Stop!_ Louisa signed as Sue shot her an alarmed glance. _He doesn't know we know!_

Cheeks flushing, Emily subsided while their grandfather grumbled.

'You've got cheeky since you went to that school, got yourself an attitude. Should've done what I wanted and sent you to Cheltenham with Lu, but no, your grandmother insisted on Dene Hollow … And after all that money we spent on you, getting you the best hearing aids, the best speech therapy, elocution lessons—'

'I never asked for it!' Emily shouted, the clarity of her voice distorting as the volume rose. 'I never wanted it, that's what you've never understood, Gramps! You look at me and you see something broken, something that needs to be fixed—but I don't want to be fixed. I _like_ being Deaf, I'm _proud_ of being Deaf! It's me, it's who I am—take it or leave it!'

'Exactly!' Sue agreed with such fervency that Louisa's eyes popped. 'She's right.' Her gaze rested on Louisa for a moment before moving to Emily. 'Look at them. They're not little girls now, Dad. They're grown up. You can't lay down the law to them like that.' She paused to take a breath, her chin coming up. 'And so am I, I'm a grown up, too. For too long I've let you … bully and bribe me into doing things that were good for you, for the family—but not for me.' She pushed away her napkin and rose. 'It's time to let go.'

At that point Louisa found herself seriously wondering if her grandfather was going to have a stroke. He'd turned an alarming shade of purple. '_Susie!_'

She ignored him.

'Coming, Louisa? I want to get in early this morning.'

Louisa hesitated before nodding. 'I need to grab my bag.'

Sue looked at the clock behind Louisa's head. 'Five minutes?'

'Yeah.' She paused in the act of joining her aunt at the door, pivoting on one heel to face her twin. 'What about you? Why don't you come with us?'

Emily did a double take. 'To Waterloo Road? What's the point?'

_You want to stay here? With _him_?_ Louisa signed.

_True_. Emily rose in a single fluid movement, sweeping her long hair over one shoulder and pointedly ignoring their grandfather.

Louisa waited until they were in the hall before asking, 'For real? You're going to come in with us?'

_Really, you want me to come? _

Louisa's cheeks ached with smiling. She laughed aloud from sheer delight as her hands said, 'Course, don't ask stupid questions. It'll be brilliant, I want you to meet everyone, especially Imogen, she's deaf too. She paused. Waterloo Road, it's not posh, it's not like Cheltenham, it's not like Dene Hollow, she added with a sudden memory of the lovely ivy-clad manor that was the girls' boarding house at her sister's school. It's poor, things are beaten and smashed up, but it's good. They care.

Her twin studied her. It was like gazing at a mirror image of herself, Louisa thought; always strangely unnerving after all this time apart. All at once those mirror-eyes softened.

'Honestly, I'm pleased for you,' Emily said quietly. 'You weren't happy before. Were you?'

Louisa shook her head, blinking away the dampness that gathered there. Only Emily knew her well enough to detect the lonely reality that lay beneath the diamond-like exterior she'd cultivated for so long, and only Emily cared enough to call her on it.

'But you're happy now?'

'Yeah.' She smiled, blinking the dampness away. 'I am. I really am!'

* * *

**Staff Room, 8.50am**

* * *

'Louisa shouldn't be too long,' Sue said, twisting to face Emily as her daughter followed her into the staffroom. She spread her arms wide and gave a nervous laugh. 'Welcome to Waterloo Road!'

Emily slowly turned in a full circle. 'Funny,' she said, 'I've never been in a staff room before. At school it's…' Her voice faltered and she switched to sign, showing the configuration of Dene Hollow's staffroom through a series of fluid motions that Sue strained to comprehend.

She _could_ sign. When she needed to, just not very well.

The door opened and Sue twisted from checking her pigeon-hole.

Christine Mulgrew stood there, looking askance at Emily who was standing looking out of the big windows. 'Sue … why is she in here? And out of uniform?'

'Oh… That's not Louisa,' Sue hastened to explain. 'That's Emily.' She swallowed as she met Christine's eyes, remembering that the older woman knew the truth. 'Louisa's twin,' she added unnecessarily. 'She's home for Easter and she didn't want to knock around the house by herself, so—'

'I see.' Christine passed on and Sue followed, suddenly nervous. 'Is she planning on staying here all day?'

'I think Louisa's gone to look for Connor and Imogen.' Sue couldn't help being tentative around Christine. She'd heard the rumours that claimed to explain the other woman's absence from school like everyone else.

'OK.' Christine shed her coat just as Emily turned, and Sue's jaw dropped when Christine signed a hesitant _Hello, welcome to Waterloo Road_. She finger spelled the W and R for 'Waterloo Road' but Sue had to confess that was more than she herself could have managed at such short notice.

Emily's face lit up.

'This is Mrs Mulgrew,' Sue introduced, inwardly thankful that M was easy enough to remember. 'She's Louisa's English teacher.'

'It's good to meet you,' Christine said with a light touch on Emily's shoulder. 'I know my daughter-in-law has been looking forward to it too.'

'Imogen?' Emily asked and Christine nodded.

'So. Are you going to try joining them for lessons?'

Emily's eyes went wide.

'She doesn't have to do that, she's on her hols!' Sue hissed.

Christine looked at her. 'She can't rattle around here all day, Sue. Besides, there's health and safety to consider. That flash,' she indicated the flashing light above the connecting door between the staffroom and offices, 'doesn't work. Would she hear the alarms if they went off?'

Sue sighed. Christine was right—again. 'No.'

'That's sorted then, isn't it?'

The door opened to admit Connor, Imogen, Dynasty, Kevin, and Louisa followed by Hector, whose eyebrows went up in silent question as he pointed at the kids.

Sue tried to ignore him but it was easier said than done. If only she didn't get so flustered around him! Now he was bypassing the bevy of young people around Christine to stand beside her, leaning in to ask if she was all set for the big day ahead.

She gave a muffled squeak when she realised that, thanks to the twins, she'd lost precious preparation time. Now what was she supposed to do? Most of the other classes would be fine but she'd nothing ready for her Year 12s. She'd never been much good at winging it and today it was so important to impress everyone with her ability not only to teach by herself but to manage a class…

'Sue?' Hector's gaze was warm. Warm and concerned. 'Everything OK?'

Her lashes dropped. 'I forgot to get something ready for them,' she whispered, gesturing to the group of sixth formers. 'Tom said it was important to do something fun, something that would engage even the ones that don't want to be there… I just don't know what to _do_!'

'An experiment?'

She turned to him with a despairing gesture.

'But what? It's not appropriate to do A'level stuff with them. I've already done the screaming jelly baby and that went down like a lead balloon!'

He brushed her arm, the touch perceptible through the cotton of her shirt. 'I'll go and see what I can rustle up, OK? Don't worry. You'll ace it, you'll see.' He left with one of those trademark twinkling grins and Sue expelled a breath of relief. She could trust Hector, couldn't she?

'It's time you were in your form room,' Christine was saying when Sue rejoined her. 'Go on, all of you. Connor, let Mr Clarkson know about Emily, will you? And the rest of you, I know she's just visiting but let's give her a proper flavour of Waterloo Road, OK?'

A chorus of agreement came from the gang of Year 12s and Christine moved with them to usher them from the staffroom. Sue reached out to catch Emily's arm as the girl went past, aware of a pang of guilt that the younger woman had lost a well-earned day of rest.

_This good? _she signed clumsily when her daughter paused. _You don't mind?_

_It's fine,_ Emily said. _Don't fuss, I'm deaf but I can look after myself!_

Sue sighed. Why did Emily always have to be so touchy? _Fine, have fun!_ She watched them leave, the door abruptly cutting of the sound of their voices, and suppressed a second sigh as she turned back to her bag, still parked under the pigeon-holes. Simon would be in at any moment and she desperately needed to flip through those plans…

'You must be very proud of them,' Christine said and Sue started, lifting her eyes to meet the other's. A beat. 'Have you told them yet?'

'It … it hasn't been the right time.' She fidgeted like a schoolgirl herself; all too often Christine made her feel like a miscreant called before the headmistress. 'I've made a start, though,' she added with a nervous giggle. 'I—I told Dad that we're all adults now, me and the twins, and he's to stop interfering in our lives.'

'Good. That's good.' Christine's smile seemed forced. 'Well, uh … good luck for today.' She turned to her own pigeon-hole, and Sue remembered the rumours anew when she saw how the lines around the older woman's mouth tightened as she reached for the pile of post that bore silent testimony to her days off.

'Christine,' Sue began impulsively. 'I just wanted to say, I—' She broke off when Christine lifted a finger, her eyes bleak.

'Don't, Sue. Don't tell me that you … I don't want to hear it. Not today. Not from you.' She turned away and Sue was left chewing her lip as she bent to retrieve her briefcase.

If the rumours _were_ true … Well, the presence of her own daughters—now acknowledged as hers mentally and emotionally, even if they were themselves still unaware—had brought home the enormity of Christine's loss. It made her feel sick—sick for what Christine and Tom were going through, and sick at herself and her own behaviour.

* * *

**TBC**

**Please, _please_ leave a line. Also, we're now approaching the end of this story—only three parts to go—so if there's anything you'd like to see in the third part of trilogy now's the time to tell me. The first half is pretty much plotted out, but the second half is pretty flexible—well, flexible subplot wise. Any characters/storylines from the show you'd like to see picked up? ox**


	40. Episode 10-2

**Loved_ this week's episode. The Audrey storyline was hilarious as well as being excellent payoff (her _Fifty Shades_ comment last term, the lie she told about the source of her £3000 windfall…) and the look on her face when Christine confiscated the book was priceless. Still wishing for proper drama with the old characters though. They seem to be relegated to comedic storylines (even Sonya's cancer has been diluted) and it's a waste._**

**_Anyway, great response last time, thank you so much! Longer note than usual, so please bear with me… or alternatively keep scrolling!_**

_**Paisley**: Is Sue's change believable, though? Or is it too much too soon? Yeah, Christine was rather harsh, but I hope you can see why._

_**Jack**: Always lovely to hear from a new reviewer! Thank you very much for your comments. I've been thinking about them ever since, and here's my conclusion: you're right, you're absolutely right. Of course the school should switch to the Scottish system as they're LA-run but… and it's a big but, I don't think any school would seriously consider switching in the last term of the school year. There's also that authenticity that you mentioned; I'm very familiar with the English system, I did my exams and teacher training in England; I can write that system, I hope, believably. What I know about the Scottish system fits on the back of the proverbial stamp and while I could research it, I don't really _know_ it, if that makes sense. However, I've taken your comments on board and they will form a strand in the third story (for which, many thanks). If I ever take this beyond a trilogy then yes, I would definitely have to make the switch, but for now I hope you'll be happy with a compromise._

_**Niamhemilee**: Ah, come on. D'you really want nothing but Tomstine fluff? :D Where's the fun in that? However… trust me. I know that's getting a bit thin at this point, but remember I love these characters as much as you do. Oh, and thanks—it's great to see you get worked up because, as you say, it shows you care._

_**Jessiekat**: Christine's head is all over the place at the moment. As for the heels, I just had to work those in!_

_**Guest**: No worries, no Vaughan. If people really want him I may work him in as a 'guest star' or something, but I've no intention of including him in the 'regular cast'. He's improving but eeh._

_**Lori**: I'm so relieved you see where Christine's coming from! I did wonder if that made emotional sense. It did in my head but you can't always be sure it'll translate. And I hope you enjoy this next piece of drama…_

* * *

**Mr Clarkson's room, 10.30am**

* * *

Tom was circulating his classroom as Year 12 busied themselves with a task, sauntering between the desk with his hands in his pockets and his thoughts several corridors away with Christine. He was still kicking himself for his own insensitivity. How could he have not realised how his own optimism and that of the kids would seem to Christine? After all, she hadn't heard what the doctor's deliberations on the subject—just as they did not have the visceral memory of what she'd clearly decided was a miscarriage. In all honesty, he couldn't blame her … after all, even the doctor had been unsure.

He paused by Connor, noting that the younger man's attention was as distracted as his own.

'Everything OK?' he asked, leaning in with his palms planted on the desk.

Connor snorted. 'As OK as it ever is.' He flipped a page disdainfully. 'I don't even know what I'm doing here, all this is just waste of time.'

Tom hunkered down and spoke softly.

'Come on, get a grip. I thought you'd decided to stick with your A'levels?'

'Yeah, in theory.' Connor's shoulder's slumped. 'In practice, that's another story.'

'Would it help if I gave you some tuition? Got plenty of opportunity.'

'Yeah, and Mum would notice and ask questions and _worry_ …' Connor paused, twirling his pen around his fingers. 'She doesn't believe us, does she? She's convinced she's lost Squirt.'

A hot tightness that Tom recognised as repressed grief welled within. 'Let's not jump to conclusions, eh? Time will tell soon enough.'

Connor raised his eyes. 'I just don't want her to give up and go back on the booze! And without Squirt … She might, you saw what happened last week.'

'She won't, mate,' Tom told him with a supportive squeeze of the shoulder. 'That was just a one-off, I'm sure of it. She's stronger than that.'

'Is she?'

'Sir, I don't get this!' came from Rhiannon's corner and Tom had to leave Connor to it while he returned to teaching. Rhiannon had indeed got herself into a considerable tangle and by the time he'd sorted her out and set her on the right road there was less than ten minutes before the bell for break. He said as much to Rhiannon and she heaved a gusty sigh and made a comment about being grateful for their free before lunch, last day of term or no.

He frowned. 'Thought you were on the science refresher?'

She tilted her head at him and batted her eyelashes. 'Me, sir? You're kiddin', right? I dropped out weeks ago. Used to like science when it were Mrs Diamond, but Miss Spark's dead borin', half the time she just talks and does the experiments 'erself.'

'Which reminds me …' He turned to face the glass. 'Heads up, folks, you're all expected to go Miss Spark's lesson before lunch.' A chorus of groans told him what they thought of that and he left Rhiannon to go to his own desk. 'Come on, you lot. Have a heart, eh? Teachers aren't born fully fledged like—like—'

'Athena springing from Zeus' brow?' Kevin quipped unexpectedly and Tom grinned.

'Random but appropriate. Exactly. We need to learn and grow—'

'At our expense?' Imogen asked, her eyebrows going up. 'No offence, sir—or to you two,' she added with an apologetic glance towards Louisa and Emily, 'but it's gonna take a lot more than us cutting her some slack to make Miss Spark a decent teacher.'

'Yeah, our Kace said Mrs Aspinall was better than Miss Spark, an' she's just a student,' Dynasty chipped in from the back.

Tom sighed. 'Look. I know she's … she's had a rocky start this term, I'm not denying that. But she's worked hard these past few weeks with Mr Reid to improve—and she's done that because she cares about your education. I'm not asking you all to become scientists, I'm asking for one lesson—just one. You need never walk into the science lab again if you're dead set against it, we won't force you.'

'I'm going,' Louisa put in, flushing when everyone turned to look at her. 'Mr Clarkson's right, I've seen S—Miss Spark at home, she's been working all hours. She even came in early this morning because it's her first day back at solo teaching and she wanted to be ready.' She paused, looking hopefully at the rest of the class. Tom saw her bite her lip when there was no response, and she glanced towards her twin. 'Come on. I've been telling Em how amazing this school is, how it really tries to give everyone a chance. How everyone cares. Please prove me right.'

Now it was Connor who blew out a sigh. 'Fine. Enough with the guilt trips, I'm in.'

His capitulation set the ball rolling and Tom expelled the breath he hadn't realised he was holding when one by one they agreed to attend Miss Spark's lesson. Even if only half of them kept their word at least Sue would be spared the humiliation of teaching a largely non-existent class.

'Thanks. A chance is all I'm asking, I'll tell Mr Lowsley that anyone who wants can drop the refreshers next term. Deal?'

They cheered as the bell went and Tom dropped into his seat, watching as they filed past. Kevin was the last to leave and he frowned. The lad was still unsteady on his feet, his movements jerky and slow.

'Kev.' The boy turned. 'How you doin'?'

A shrug. 'Gettin' there. Just a bit slow.'

'Have a good rest over the holidays, OK? I want you back on that team at some point!'

Kevin's monkey grin flashed. 'I'll do me best, sir.'

'Too right you will.' Tom jerked his head towards the door. 'Enjoy your break.'

The monkey grin came a second time and Kevin left, clinging to the door frame for support as he passed through. Tom could see Dynasty waiting for him and the two departed arm-in-arm.

_Let's hope _Sue_ hasn't forgotten about Kevin's limitations_, Tom thought uneasily as he prepared to go for his coffee and biscuits. _I hope she and Hector have been sensible and haven't planned anything _too_ dramatic, pupil engagement or not!_

* * *

**Mrs Mulgrew's room, 12.10pm**

* * *

'Lisa and Shaznay, if you do that one more time—just _one_—you'll be spending the rest of the day in the cooler,' Christine threatened. 'Honestly, haven't you two been in enough trouble lately? Just knuckle down and get on with it, for Pete's sake!' She placed a single tick on Darren's exercise book and moved on to the next desk.

'Lenny. Let's have a look, h'mm? Have you remembered what I told you about backing up your arguments?'

'I tried, miss.' He glanced up. 'There … and there.' Christine was aware of his gaze on her as she scanned the page. 'Is it right?'

She forced a reassuring smile she did not feel. 'It's an improvement.' Lenny's face fell. 'Cheer up. Rome wasn't built in a day, OK? You're not gonna be getting A* grades immediately. But … you're getting there, this is good stuff!' She nudged his shoulder. 'Well done, you've worked really hard, you should be proud of yourself.'

He beamed while Lisa made catcalls across the room and Christine ignored her; sometimes it was the only thing to do. Lenny's eyes were still fixed on her and she added a flurry of green ticks to his work along with an approving comment or two, just on general principles. When he was in the throes of one of his panic attacks he might well forget everything she'd _said_—but her remarks penned in green ink all over his exercise book would give him something tangible to cling to.

'See? You're doing fine. Keep this up and you'll get _at least_ a B with no difficulty at all!'

He beamed again and her lips twitched. She was preparing to move on once more when he blurted, 'Are you OK, miss?'

Christine stopped. 'Excuse me?'

Lenny's expression reminded her of an anxious puppy.

'I was dead worried last week,' he explained as she stiffened. 'It was me that told Mr Clarkson somethin' wasn't right.'

'I see.' Her cheeks were aching from trying to maintain an unnatural smile. 'Well, that's very kind of you, Lenny, but you really don't need to worry about me. I'm fine.'

He leaned closer to whisper, 'Yeah, but I was _worried_. What with the baby an' that.' He gestured vaguely in the direction of her abdomen and her lips pinched as she struggled to steady them.

_I have to get out of here_, she thought desperately. _I can't have a public meltdown in front of this lot—_

Fortunately for her rapidly disintegrating composure, Lisa chose that moment to thump Shaznay with her text, prompting an indignant yowl from the other girl. When Shaznay returned the wallop with interest Christine came down on them like the proverbial ton of bricks, secretly more than a little relieved at the distraction.

'Can't you two control yourselves even on the last day of term?' she demanded as she swept between the desks to them. 'How many times do you need to be told? Cooler. Now.'

'Aw, miss, we was only messin',' Lisa implored. 'This is borin', the other class told us they were watchin' a video. Why can't we watch a video?'

Christine's eyebrows went up. 'Perhaps because you do not deserve it?' Her tone was pointed and Lisa scowled. 'I'd happily allow you to watch a video, Lisa, but only if you're ready and I know you won't take advantage of it. Not much chance of that on current evidence, h'mm?'

'But—'

'Ah!' Christine held up a finger and Lisa subsided. 'That's better. So, cooler. _Now_—or I'll make your lives _very_ unpleasant next term and believe me, I'm not joking.'

'We're goin', we're goin',' Shaznay grumbled, prodding Lisa to her feet. She tossed her head. 'C'mon, Lise. Look on the bright side, can't be any worse than—' She broke off with a scream as an explosion momentarily deafened them all.

She was not the only one screaming, Christine could tell from their expressions that the kids were stunned and scared, but she had to wait for her own ears to stop ringing before she was able to call the class to something resembling calm. By then it was too late, the fire alarm had started to blare and everyone was on their feet, fighting to get to the door.

'Quietly!' Christine called. 'There's no need for this panic, it's probably just something in the science lab … Darren Huges, stop right there!'

He turned, 'The alarm—'

'Close the door.'

His eyes popped.

'Close it!' she snapped, and he obeyed. 'Right. That is _not_ the way to leave the room in an emergency, there's stairs just outside! You lot carry on like that and we'll be needing ambulances …' By this time she had reached the door herself and she prodded Darren behind another lad. 'Now you may go. _Carefully_ and _quietly_!'

Duly warned, Year 10 filed out in a manner that did not promise broken necks for half of them and Christine sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose as she prepared to follow once her classroom was empty. She couldn't have held them back for much longer, she noted as a handful of coughing sixth formers passed. Explosions in the science lab were one thing, but _smoke_?

Quite a lot of smoke, at that.

* * *

**Miss Spark's room, 12.25pm**

* * *

Connor realised what was going to happen as soon as he saw Rhiannon drop the match into her jar; she'd put entirely too much liquid in there. His hearing went as a red and gold fireball exploded from the jar, shattering it. Fellow pupils screamed and perhaps they inadvertently set off fireballs of their own in the panic; there was bursts of flame and the room was filling with more smoke than was justified by Rhiannon's actions alone. Instinct kicked in and Connor grabbed Imogen, yanking her to the floor under the bench, coughing, his heart thumping so hard and fast against his ribs that he felt sick.

Time became meaningless, his mind as numb as his body. Perhaps he lost consciousness; when he opened his eyes after making that wild dive with his wife his surroundings bore a surreal tinge. He still couldn't hear properly, sound was fuzzy and blunted. Imogen was saying something—sobbing it, rather, but he could not decipher it, her mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. One part of his mind told him to remember this later, to remember how it felt. This was what she lived with every day.

The smoke was so thick his eyes were watering, his throat aching with it. As his mind began to return to normal he realised they had to get out, they couldn't stay here like this. They were at risk from the smoke if nothing else.

He shook Imogen, trying to jerk her out of her terror. 'I'm here, Im. I'm here, you're OK. We've gotta get out, you mustn't freak out. I'm gonna get you out.'

He could feel her trembling.

'It was fire, Connor… I felt the heat of it as it streaked past me, it just missed me… I can't get burnt again—'

'You're not going to, but you have to calm down, right?' He stopped to cough, forcing himself to breathe shallowly to avoid inhaling the smoke. He began to move his hands, struggling to remember the basic sign language that Louisa had taught him. 'We need to move, stay near the floor, cover you mouth and nose—'

She grabbed his arm. 'Where are the others? Dyn and Kev were just behind us—God, Connor, _Kevin_!' To his horror she began to crawl away from him and the door, towards the back of classroom.

He was torn. On the one hand, he wanted to check for their friends as much as she did. On the other, every nerve in his body was telling him to get out, to get them both out as quickly as possible… They hadn't seen anyone else, the classroom seemed deserted apart from themselves. Surely that meant Miss Spark had evacuated. Surely it meant help was on the way. Surely someone would notice they were absent…

'I've found someone!' he heard Imogen croak and it broke his trance. 'Connor, they're not moving!' Once again his heart began that sickening too-rapid tattoo in his chest as she yelled, '_Kevin! Dynasty!_ For God's sake shout if you can hear us!'

She ended on a strangled cough and all at once he knew his second impulse was the right thing to do. Breathing was becoming more difficult by the second, he had to get out and get help, there was no time for delay. Even opening the classroom door would allow smoke to escape and fresh air to rush in; the fireballs seemed to have burned themselves out.

The decision made he turned and crawled towards the door, holding his breath and wincing in anticipation of future pain as his palms and knees turned slick, lacerated by the splinters and shrapnels of glass that littered the floor.

He almost wept with relief when he literally bumped head-first into Miss Spark's long bench and climbed painfully to his feet. He had to cling to it as he rounded the bench; just a few more steps to the door.

He never reached it.

It swung open and he blinked dazedly, his eyes too blurry to recognise the figure before him. 'Help,' he rasped. It hurt to speak, it was like the hot razor-sharp pain he remembered from five years ago, when repeated throat infections had resulted in a tonsillectomy. 'Imogen … Kevin—'

The figure lurched towards him.

'Please help,' he croaked again. The cool air flowing in from the hall was like a balm.

'Connor, come on,' his rescuer said, and he nearly sobbed as he recognised his mother's voice. 'Come on. Let's get you out, help's coming.'

'But—'

'I'll go back for them,' his mum promised as she tried to pull him towards the door.

'You can't,' he insisted. He couldn't remember why, but he knew it was important. ''S'not safe.'

'Never mind that. We need to get you out.' They'd almost reached the threshold and she paused. In that moment Connor saw what she saw, saw and anticipated her next movement. 'Sue's left that burner on, I'll go and—'

'Mum, leave it!' he yelled, lunging for her as she leaned over Miss Spark's bench. He caught her arm at precisely the wrong moment and she knocked over the burner, sending it toppling and bringing the adjacent beaker with it—and flinging the flame directly into contact with the pool of flammable liquid spreading across the bench.

* * *

**I apologise for any wonky science. It's twenty years since I studied it (eep), so if anyone's cringing and going 'No. No. _No_,' you have my sympathy. That's what I do when history gets messed up.**

**TBC and please don't forget to let me know what you think! Only two more parts to go...**


	41. Episode 10-3

_**Here we go! Penultimate chapter at last! I think I've now officially written more Waterloo Road than anything else, and that's saying something. I'm getting incredibly frustrated by what we're seeing on telly. This week's was dire, absolutely dire. It's not I dislike the new characters—I actually think they're really good—but not at the expense of the old ones we've invested several years in getting to know! I sometimes think they're trying to cram too much in and as a result they're not really doing justice to anyone. (Psst, if anyone's following Laurie Brett on twitter/FB, do us a favour and see if she can be drawn on whether or not there's any Christine-centric eps to come…)**_

_Thank you to my three faithful reviewers: __**Lori**__, __**Paisley**__, and __**Niamhemilee**—__and also to __**Hollie**__. Thanks for taking the time; it almost means more at this point of the story. _

_**Niamhemilee**__: You read the whole thing from the start? How did you find that, reading in one go as opposed to bit by bit? Did it work? As for the gap, probably not very long… but obviously the more encouragement I get to continue straight on, the quicker I'll be! ;)_

_**Paisley**__: I always wanted to use the fire scene from early S9 … but more. I do like putting twists on what we see in the series!_

_**hollie**__: Thank you! And thank you for reviewing. _

_**Lori**__: *g* I especially enjoy your reactions when I lull you into *ahem* a false sense of security and then… bam. Don't worry about Christine and Connor, their relationship is going to be an important part of the next story. And aw, thanks for wishing I was writing WR S10! Right now I wish I was too. This week's was… _ugh_. _

_**Enjoy!**_

* * *

**Crush Hall, 12.30pm**

* * *

Christine coughed and closed her door once the last pupil had left, one hand reaching to grasp the rail for support as she ran down the stairs after her class. Her back was aching and her toes pinching, allowing the kids in their infinitely more sensible footwear to get a head-start.

_Tom's right_, she thought ruefully as she paused in the half-landing to remove her shoes. She loved what they did for her posture and confidence but they were of zero use when it came to the practicalities of moving in a hurry—never to mention a positive danger in an emergency. She tucked them under her arm and hurried along the corridor, prodding the lingering remnants of her class onwards. Now that their first panic was over, some of them were inclined to take the alarm less seriously.

'Lisa, Shaznay, what are you doing?' Christine's tone was sharp as she reached them. 'The fire alarm's still going, you need to evacuate!'

'What's the point, you said it yourself, it were just Miss Spark messin' up again. Ain't that right, miss?' Shaznay yelled, her gaze shifting over Christine's shoulder. 'Blowin' up the school, that's well good!'

'Shaznay!' Christine pointed in the direction of the exit and, perhaps warned by her glare, the girl obeyed. Christine sighed and turned to look at her colleague.

'What the hell happened up there? No,' she lifted a hand, 'don't tell me. Did you get them all out?'

Sue nodded. She looked shocked, her skin pale beyond its usual whiteness.

'Are you _sure_?' Christine pressed with a thought for her own foursome. 'There was a lot of smoke up there—' Sue's lower lip began to tremble and the older woman tutted. 'Oh, for—Never mind. Just go to your class. They should be waiting outside, Year 12 know what they're doing.'

Sue sniffled, obeying with a meekness that might have amusing at any other time, and Christine shook her head as she followed her towards the crush hall. It was filling with pupils streaming from the assembly hall and almost at once she lost sight of Sue, but that was all to the good. It meant the younger woman was shouldering her responsibility to her class—which meant Christine herself could concentrate on getting her own band of troublemakers together.

'Keep moving,' she called when the river of students threatened to come to a standstill. 'We're not done evacuating until you're all out of here—Rhiannon Salt, _where_ do you think you are going? I thought you had better sense, now get out!'

'I was lookin' for Miss Spark,' the prefect panted, 'but you're better.' She had to stop to catch her breath. 'It's—it's Connor an' that.'

Christine's heart jolted to a momentary stop before she remembered. 'Nonsense. I've just seen Miss Spark, she told me she'd got everyone out—' but Rhiannon was shaking her head vehemently.

'She's lyin', I can't find 'em _anywhere!_ Not Connor or Imogen or Dyn or Kev … Mrs Mulgrew, I think they're still up there!' She gripped Christine's arm with such fierceness the older woman could feel sharp nails through the layers of shirt and cardigan. 'It were horrible, miss, them fireballs just came outta nowhere and—and—'

Christine disengaged herself and turned so that she was looking the girl straight in the eye. 'Rhiannon. You're sure about this? Sure you didn't just … just lose them, look at this lot, it's a rugby scrum. It wouldn't be hard.' She gave a light laugh that rang false to her own ears.

Rhiannon shook her head a second time. 'I'm not makin' this up, I swear. I looked for 'em and I couldn't see 'em. At _all_.'

Christine tried to swallow the tide of terror that rose, threatening to choke her. There was no question of the girl's sincerity, she believed every word she said and if there was even the _shadow_ of a possibility that she was correct—

'Come on.' She put an arm around the younger woman's shoulders and began to guide her towards the door. 'I want to you to keep calm, OK? You're a prefect. Miss Spark is gonna need you when the others realise … when the others realise people are missing. So I need you to go out there—'

'But—'

Christine had to expel a frustrated breath through her nose as she tried to keep a handle on her temper. 'Rhiannon. Please …' She shifted the shoes she was still clutching; the heels were digging into her, just above the line of her bra. 'Actually, take these; for God's sake do _not_ lose them! I—' She pressed her lips together before saying in a rush, 'I'm gonna see if I can find them. If—well, if I'm not straight out give them to Mr Clarkson, OK?'

Rhiannon's black eyes turned round as she nodded, but Christine was relieved to see the shoes had distracted her from the question of Connor and company. That was a relief, she couldn't handle the sixth former's fear on top of her own.

They'd nearly reached the door when the lights in the crush hall flickered, going on-off-on-off-on-off. Rhiannon screamed and Christine whirled, panic surging through her anew. If the electrics were going…

But it was just Louisa Fox, her finger repetitively sliding up and down the metal switch. Christine pushed Rhiannon out before twisting for the other girl, grabbing her shoulders and dragging her away from the lights.

'What the _hell_—'

Louisa shook her off, looking as agitated as Christine felt. 'It's Emily! I can't find Emily, she was behind me and then she wasn't—' She was very white, her usual composure entirely gone. 'Miss, she doesn't know where she's going, she could be lost somewhere—!' Her voice cracked.

'She's not the only one missing,' Christine told her grimly. 'I'm going to look for them now. There's nothing you can do here; just … just get out to—to your aunt.' She closed her eyes; she'd come dangerously near to blowing the top off Sue's secret. When Louisa hesitated, Christine pointed to the door. '_Go_, Miss Fox! I won't tell you again!' She took a deep breath and tried to moderate her tone; Louisa was probably as frightened as she herself was. 'I'm going to find them. I promise.'

Louisa's eyes popped. 'You're not going back up? Mrs Mulgrew, what if—'

Christine refused to hear more. She was already running.

* * *

**Playground, 12.37pm**

* * *

Sue's hands trembled as she clutched her register and willed her voice to work so that she could take it. Every time she closed her eyes she saw those balls of flame with their trails of black smoke exploding around her classroom; the terrified screams of the students still rang loud in her ears, blocking out the sounds of the playground and other, calmer, members of staff taking their own registers. Thank God she'd got everyone out, thank God they were only shaken, not injured …

'Miss Spark!' someone yelled, their call mingling with Louisa's equally frantic, 'Auntie Sue!'

'Now maybe you'll listen, miss!' Jack McAllister said, pushing through the ranks to Year 12 to stand before her, glaring, his jaw very square. 'We've been trying to tell you something!'

'I—what?' She blinked at them.

'_Emily's still in there!_' Louisa screamed, pointing back towards the school. Sue had always thought that _I felt the blood drain _was an exaggeration, but now she experienced the sinking, sickening reality of it.

'An' she's not the only one,' Rhiannon added, shoving a pair of stilettos into her arms. 'Connor and Im and Dyn an' Kev, they're in there too, Mrs Mulgrew's gone—'

'What?' Sue interrupted.

'Connor and—'

'No, about Mrs Mulgrew!' Surely the older woman wouldn't be so stupid. Not when—

But Rhiannon was raising confident eyes to her face. 'She's gone back in after 'em.' She seemed calmer; certainly calmer than Louisa. 'She'll get 'em, miss. She's Connor's mum, innit.'

_And I'm Emily's_, Sue thought numbly, dropping the shoes; they clattered against the tarmac. _I can't let Christine do this alone._

'Let Mr Clarkson and Simon know,' she told her other daughter and began to move towards the nearest door.

She had to close her ears to Louisa shrieking her name, to the calls of the startled members of staff as she streaked past them. Once upon a time she'd been her form's best runner, and now adrenaline leant her a speed she hadn't known in years. Yet it seemed to take forever before she was in the long administrative corridor, before she spied Christine's familiar figure ahead.

'Christine!' She gasped for air, hoping it was sustain a last burst. 'Christine, _wait!_'

'Go back, Sue!'

'_No!_' A second gasp, this time stifled by the faint hint of smoke. 'It's my daughter up there too!'

The older woman was standing at the foot of the stairs, outside the cooler. 'You _said_ you got them out!'

'I—I couldn't see them, the smoke—'

'I don't want to hear it, you're a bloody liability! Now go back, there's no point both of us—'

'It should be me who goes,' Sue blurted before she'd time to think. She coughed. 'You're right, I was the teacher, it's my responsibility.' She met Christine's eyes. 'You can't take the risk, what if you're wrong and you're still pregnant—'

'I'm not,' Christine broke in, her tone harsh. 'I'm _not_. I've already lost one child and if you think I'm gonna go back out there and stand around waiting to see if I've lost the other…' Her lips pressed in a trembling line. 'Look, we haven't got time for this. You … you do whatever it is you need to do—but if you really want to help, you'll go and find Tom. Tell him—just tell him …'

A final inarticulate gesture and she was off, leaving Sue hopelessly torn. One part of her wanted—_needed_—to follow Christine, to insist on shouldering the burden of discovering what had happened to their children. The other part told her that Christine was right about one thing at least; that it would be folly for them both to go, that she could be most useful in alerting the rest of the staff… _if_ Louisa and Rhiannon hadn't got there first.

* * *

**Landing, 12.43pm**

* * *

The air was faintly clouded by a grey veil of smoke and Christine had to pull out a hanky to cover her mouth as she forged up the stairs, away from Sue and towards Connor and the rest. She nearly fell over the step outside her classroom and muffled a curse as she steadied herself on the rail, her pulse ratcheting in her ears. Still clinging the security of the cool metal, she followed the curve of it around the hall towards the lab, trying to ignore the yawning emptiness that filled her at the sight of so much _smoke_…

Finally, she reached the door to the science lab. She leaned on it to push it open. It stuck and she let out a strangled sob, thumping it hard with both fists. '_Connor!_'

Her eyes were watering, spilling out drops of salt water that stung almost as much as the smoke did. She could just about make out a dark figure inside the lab.

She thumped the door again, this time putting the full force of her body weight behind it. 'Connor, for God's sake—!'

The door popped free and she stumbled in, narrowly avoiding tripping over her own feet, her breath coming hard in a choked mixture of coughs and sobs—sobs of relief.

The dark figure she'd spied through the window was her son. He wavered, seeming not to recognise her.

'Help,' he croaked. 'Please. Imogen … Kevin …'

She lurched towards him, his distress forcing her to control her own, to be strong. She managed to speak in her usual tone, managed to persuade him that help was coming (she prayed it was, prayed that Sue or the girls had indeed gone straight to Tom, cursed herself for not doing likewise instead of allowing maternal instinct to get in the way of common bloody _sense_) and began to usher him out. If she could get him out she'd look for the others and she'd be more effective if her heart was at ease about him, at least.

They'd nearly reached the door when Christine realised that Sue's burner was still emitting its tongue of flickering blue and orange … disbelief filled her, how could the woman be so careless? _Anything that combusts, sparks or explodes needs to be very carefully supervised_ indeed! She lunged to flip the gas switch, ignoring Connor's shouted warning.

Noise; a flash of light; scorching heat; a streak of white-hot pain; the stench of burning flesh … these were the last things she knew before falling into the dark.

* * *

**Playground, 12.50pm**

* * *

'Mr Clarkson! Mr Clarkson!'

Tom turned from trying to reassure his frightened Year 7s, frowning at Rhiannon Salt when the sixth former rushed up to him. She was a prefect, she should know better.

'Rhiannon, what—' He broke off at the sight of the shoes she cradled and snatched them from her, his eyes boring into her. 'You gonna tell me what this is about?'

She sent a sidelong look towards the younger ones. 'Sir… not—' She shook her head and Tom's breath caught on the lump of solid fear that formed in his throat. If she couldn't tell him before the first years it must be serious indeed. His grasp on Christine's shoes tightened.

'_Where?_' he barked, his mouth dry.

Her only answer was a jerk of the head in the direction of the front door and he waited no longer, leaving his class to Rhiannon's tender mercies as he pelted across the driveway, ignoring startled calls from colleagues and pupils. He'd almost reached the steps when Simon grabbed him from behind.

'Let me go, man,' Tom growled, struggling to free himself from the younger man's hold. 'She's in there! Christine's in there! I've got to find her!'

'There's nothing you can do, mate,' Simon said in his ear, his fingers gripping Tom's arms like teeth of steel. 'We need to play this by the book. The emergency services are on their way, we just need to sit tight—'

'But what—what if they're hurt? _Badly_ hurt? Or worse?' a shrill voice demanded from Tom's other side, echoing his own feelings and fears so precisely that it took him a moment to realise that the speaker was Louisa.

And understanding dawned. She'd said _They're_.

Christine wasn't stupid. There was only one reason why she would risk herself like this—

'Connor,' he rasped, the furious tension draining out of him. 'Connor's in there too, isn't he? She went after him!'

'And Dynasty and Emily and Kevin and Imogen,' Louisa told him. She hesitated. 'And Sue.'

'Oh, has she.' Tom's fury came flooding back and he twisted, detaching himself from Simon's grasp. He flourished a shoe in Simon's face, the sharp heel stopping only bare millimetres from the other man's nose. 'Of course. It would be Sue again, wouldn't it? I'm telling you, If harm's come to Chris or our kids because of her, I'll—I'll—'

He thrust the shoes into Simon's arms and took the steps in a single bound, flinging himself through the doors and forcing them shut with his body. The alarm had ceased blaring, the corridors were dark and eerily empty, and Tom's breathing whistled in his ears. He pushed himself away from the doors and stumbled automatically in the direction of the stairs that lead to Christine's room—and walked straight into Sue.

She caught at him, her hands pulling at his jacket and babbling wildly. 'I'm sorry, I don't know what happened, I—'

Any sympathy he'd had for her throughout the term had evaporated, leaving him stonily impervious to her pleas. 'Where is she?'

'Please. I tried to stop her, she wouldn't listen, she said—'

Tom had never laid violent hands on a woman, but just then he came dangerously close. 'Sue. If you want to keep your career you'll shut up and tell me the _only_ thing I want to know. _Where is she?_'

Her response was a finger pointing upwards and he pushed past her, uncaring of the fact that his haste had sent her reeling against the wall. He'd almost reached the foot of the stairs beside the cooler when the double doors opposite flung open to admit a handful of burly firemen in full gear. They wasted no time in manhandling him out, refusing to listen to his pleas or explanations, and when the doors closed behind them once more—leaving him on the wrong side—he expressed the boiling frustration that filled him by driving his fist straight at the glass. In an odd sort of way the bone-crunching pain helped.

'Tom, what're you doin', man?' It was Maggie; she must have seen his forced expulsion from the building. 'You gotta stop this, you're only hurtin' yourself… Come 'ere, let's have a look.'

He waved her off. 'I'm fine, Mags, don't fuss.' He wasn't; his hand hurt like hell, but not as much as his heart.

'Thank God for safety glass, eh?' Maggie was saying as she turned his hand over with a gentle touch. 'No cuts, just bruises. Them emergency people won't need to patch you up an' all.'

He flinched, her words driving into the centre of his fears.

'God, I'm sorry. Didn't think before I opened me big gob, did I?' She shook her head. 'Come on, pet. Away from the door. Ambulance is just over there, we don't wanna block—well.'

'No,' he croaked, knowing what she'd left unspoken. He allowed her to draw him to one side to join the little knot of anxious teachers nearby. They were still close, but not so close that they would … He refused to give the thought body and weight, even in the privacy of his own head.

'Any news?' Audrey's gaze was sombre as she put the question.

He ran his hands through his hair. 'It was sodding Sue. _Again_,' he added bitterly. 'How many times can one mistake come back to bite us, eh?'

Sonya was frowning. 'Sue? But weren't she doin' well, I heard that Hector sayin' how well she were doing at break.'

'Yeah, he was helping her—' Tom dropped his hands and stared. '_Hector_. Where the bloody blazes was _he_? Sue was supposed to be flying solo today but he should still have been there.'

Maggie cleared her throat and he swivelled.

'What?'

'I, um.' She flicked away of wisp of hair that had blown across her face and met his eyes. 'I, uh, I think … I might know where he went.' He glared and she shifted, clearly uncomfortable. 'I came out of my room, like, and I saw 'em just outside the boys' loos. Not long before the alarm went.'

Tom's fists clenched. 'For God's sake, spit it out!'

She leaned over to put a hand on his arm. 'It was Mika, Tom. Mika and Hector. They were goin' right at it, I dropped me keys I was that taken aback and they never even noticed.' The pressure on his arm tightened. 'I'm so sorry, flower, I should've said something—'

'It's OK,' Tom said numbly. 'It wasn't your fault.'

Audrey and Sonya were exclaiming but Tom wasn't listening. He was too busy trying to keep a handle on bubbling rage laced with the sour taste of betrayal. It wasn't Sue's fault after all, not entirely. It was Hector's for not doing the job they'd hired him to do, it was _Mika's_ for being so completely unprofessional … He'd never forgive her for this. Never.

'_Tom!_' It was George Windsor, the peremptory summons accompanied by a less-than-gentle shake. 'Wake up, man. They're coming!'

He bounded to feet, his knees so wobbly he wondered if he could stand. George must have realised; he gripped Tom's elbow so hard it hurt.

'For God's sake, don't keel over. Chin up, that's—that's what Chrissie needs from you now.'

Tom's jaw dropped as realisation blossomed with that uncharacteristic catch in the French teacher's voice. 'You love her!'

'What's that got to do with it?' the older man snapped. 'You love her and more importantly, _she_ loves _you_. My feelings are irrelevant.' He leaned in to whisper in Tom's ear, 'But mark my words, Clarkson. You hurt her and I will hunt you down and turn your life into a living, breathing _hell_.'

Tom swallowed. George's eyes were black and unblinking; he had no doubt the other man meant every word he said.

'You won't have to,' he said hoarsely. 'I swear it, mate.'

And then Audrey made a sound that was a suppressed whimper and his heart seemed to plunge straight out of his body. Dynasty, Kevin and Emily exited first, with the girls helping a shaky Kevin on his way. Then came Imogen, whiter than he'd ever seen her, turning to look at what came behind: Connor, holding something to one eye, and the long shape of a stretcher borne by green-clad paramedics. Through the gap between them he spied a familiar blonde head.

'No!' The shout sounded so far away it was impossible to believe it was ripped from his own throat. 'No! _Christine!_'

* * *

**TBC ;)**

**Just wondering, does anyone have any pet plotlines from S9/10 they'd like to see in the third story? Just remember it'll largely be as a subplot because my main plots are in place, but there's several subplots going begging. If enough people ask for the same subplot I'll do my best, with the following caveats:**

**-no teacher/student romance**

**-no Justin/Tiffany (because I don't think I could write Tiffany and the whole point of that relationship is setting up conflict between Allie and Vaughan and Vaughan and Justin. As Vaughan wouldn't be Head in this universe I'm not sure it would work).**

**Beyond that, I'll at least consider it—and give kudos where appropriate, of course. **

**See you next time! ox**


	42. Episode 10-4

_**Final chapter of **_**Spring Term **_**at last**__** … and it's a long one, so make sure you're sitting comfortably. I will be back with the start of **_**Summer Term**_** in a couple of weeks, certainly before **_**Waterloo Road**_** finishes forever on TV. Although on current going I'm rather less sad about that than I was. I've read Laurie Brett has said that she would be moving on even if the show wasn't cancelled; at this point I'm almost wishing that was the case so we could get some actual proper **_**storylines**_**, darnit!**_

**Jessiekat**: I hope you like this chapter and it ties off all the ends you wanted tied… And I'm thinking about your Scott/Kenzie suggestion. It all depends on whether I can get a handle on their characters or not; ten episodes isn't really very much unless I simply use them as a template (rather like how Louisa was based on Gabi here).

**Niamhemiliee**: Sorry for the wait! Did you ask Laurie btw? (Maybe not this week, not with #EELive). I'm slowly giving up hope although Monday's ep looks like it could be good. Or just silly. Either way, it's not exactly a proper plot, is it?!

**Lori**: LOL momentary name-lapse. I know, I think that's almost one of the reasons why I'm just gonna carry on. The show's distressingly light on the characters I care about so if they won't give me what I want… may as well write it. There may be a fortnight's wait—there's some research I need to get out for the sake of cold hard cash—but I expect to be back with the third story before the show finishes.

**Anon**: Thank you for your lovely review; it was not at all rambling! It's always great to hear from people who've been reading along in the background and even better when you've inhaled a significant amount in one go. I often wonder about pace in this because of the episodic nature of posting and worry whether it reads well as a whole… the fact that you read _Autumn Term_ quickly and continued on is encouraging. If you like long chapters you should enjoy this last one—it's one of the longest of the lot!

**Paisley**: I wasn't just being mean to Christine. There were reasons why it had to be her. Once you've read this chapter hopefully you'll see them! :) Hector's shocking and Mika's not much better. They deserve each other.

**Guest**: Thank you! Hope you'll stick with it into the third story, ox.

**Guest**: As above :)

**Sparkles21**: Wow, I love it when people say they've spent the day reading the whole fic! Hope this last chapter is worth it and you stick with us into _Summer Term_.

(And later today we have the big reveal for Who Killed Lucy Beale. I'm starting to think Ian and Christ—er, Jane.)

**Enjoy! :)**

* * *

**Playground, 1.00pm**

* * *

'So … Is anyone gonna tell me what the hell just happened?' Simon demanded as he reached the little knot of colleagues clustered about Tom Clarkson, seated on the steps with his head in his hands. No-one responded; they were too busy watching the departing ambulance and Simon had to bellow his question a second time.

'Ask and it shall be given unto you. Are you certain you want to know?'

That was George Windsor from his position against the railings, an eyebrow forming its usual supercilious question mark. Simon had to remind himself that Christine and George were old friends; this once, it behooved him to be patient.

All the same, he couldn't prevent himself gritting, 'I'm Head, it's my _job_ to ask.'

A movement made him pause. The group of kids most involved had approached, with Imogen and Dynasty standing with their arms around Kevin while the Fox girls clung to each other, their faces identical masks of shock.

Simon swallowed hard. 'What are they doing here, shouldn't someone—'

'Audrey an' me, we'll take care of 'em,' Maggie said hurriedly. 'Come on, you lot. Let's get you looked at, eh? Patch up some of them bumps and burns and what-not.'

'I'm don't need looking at, I'm fine,' Imogen insisted, twitching away from the housemistress. 'Connor—Connor kept me down, I'm not hurt.' Her chin lifted. 'I want to go the hospital. I want to know Connor and Christine are OK. Tom, I'm ready to go—' Tom did not move, even when Audrey put a hand on his shoulder, and Imogen took a step closer. 'Tom?'

'Clarkson!' George snapped. 'Wake up!'

But Tom remained motionless while Imogen was looking increasingly upset. Feeling responsible, Simon was just about to offer to run her to the hospital himself—explanations be damned—when Dynasty chipped in.

'You don't need Tom, I'll come,' she offered, sending the Head an appealing look. He took the hint and gestured to Maggie, who came to take a visibly shaken Kevin away.

'We'll look after him,' Simon promised when the Head Girl's eyes followed her boyfriend's halting steps towards Maggie's car. 'And in the meantime Sonya'll sort you a cab. Won't you, Sonya?' He turned to the secretary and for the first time that term found himself confronted with a wide smile—albeit one that seemed more than a little forced.

''Course. I'll get yous a cab and a cuppa rosie while you're waitin'. Help with the shock, eh?' Her monologue continued as she prodded Dynasty and Imogen towards the main front door. He could hear her assuring them that Christine was strong, that she was sure everything would be fine…

He gulped, remembering Tom's accusation. This was all Sue's fault, he'd said. _Sue_. He knew he should have sacked her, sent her packing weeks ago after that incident with Louisa. Guilt filled him when he remembered why he hadn't: because Christine had taken charge in such a fashion that he'd been left feeling pity for his (then) fiancée instead of maintaining his entirely justified anger. As a result Sue had kept both her qualified teacher status and her job—and the fury that had boiled through him then surged again at the realisation that Sue had failed to seize the lifeline she'd been thrown. The lifeline she'd so little deserved.

He turned on his heel and marched across the drive to where Sue was standing with Emily and Louisa.

'I hope you're satisfied now, _Susie_.' His tone turned Robert Bain's name for his youngest daughter into an insult. 'You've been saying all term you wanted to get rid of Christine and now you've succeeded! I should call the police!'

Sue whitened. 'Simon, I—'

'Not more excuses, Sue! I'm not having it, I've had it to here with your excuses and reasons and manipulations and lies … I suppose you haven't told them, either!' He gestured towards the girls and Louisa went rigid.

'Told us what?' The last word was signed as well as spoken.

Sue's complexion was no longer simply white; every vein at her temple stood out, a network of faint blues and green against her pallor. Simon was too angry to feel sympathy; he simply raised an eyebrow.

'Well? Going to answer?' When she still hesitated he added through his teeth, 'Fine. I'll do _one_ thing I should have done weeks ago. Lulu, Emily, meet your mother.'

Sue made a strangled noise that was echoed by Louisa. Emily looked from one to the other, a fine line between her brows.

'What did he say?' Louisa did not answer; her eyes were round in her white face as she stared at a stricken Sue. Emily shook her. 'Lulu! What did he say?!'

Simon's rage abruptly went off the boil as Louisa tried to explain, her hands as shaky as her voice. The loss of the fiery heat of anger left him in feeling ill and profoundly ashamed. _What_ had he just said? He wasn't Sue's fiancee any longer; what she did or did not tell her daughters was none of his business. He tried to reach out.

'Sue—'

'_No!_' She sheered away like a frightened horse. 'I can't believe what you just did, how _dare_ you!' For once she was not crying; her eyes were sparking. 'I tried to stop Christine, Simon! I did! She wouldn't _listen_!'

His annoyance in full force.

'You didn't try hard enough! As usual! When things get tough you just cry and give up, it _never changes_. Well, It's time to get a grip and_ grow up!_ And that means _fixing_ your mistakes instead of letting everyone else carry your bloody can!'

'What do you think I'm doing now? If I made mistakes it was because I needed _help!_' It was nearly a shriek. 'I was a bitch to Christine, but she and Tom could see that! And you … You never even bothered to ask, you were supposed to care! Tom made you ask for support and you didn't even check that properly … Hector was supposed to with me all day today, that was the condition you imposed!'

'If he wasn't there you should have let someone know!'

'She tried,' Louisa put in stiffly, surprising Simon with her support of her mother at this moment. 'She went looking for you.'

'And d'you know what I found?' Sue wasn't screaming any longer; she was nearly whispering. 'Outside Maggie's room. Hector … and Mika.'

Simon reeled, feeling as if she'd punched him in the stomach—or even lower down, as Dynasty had at the start of the term. He'd always known that Mika considered their relationship a transitory thing, two ships passing in the night … but part of him had hoped she'd come to see things differently. He wasn't a man to sleep with a woman lightly; he preferred to have some substance in his relationships.

Sue was still talking, eerily calm.

'They never noticed me. Like I didn't exist. Well, I should be used to that, shouldn't I?' He opened his mouth to say something and she shook her head, eyes unreadable. 'Don't bother, Simon. We were a mistake too, weren't we? I was a fool not to see it before. And before you ask, I'll have my resignation letter on your desk by the end of the day.' She turned her back on him, her arms going around her stunned daughters to usher them into the building.

He watched her go, the afternoon sun turning her hair into living flame—and knew he couldn't let her walk away. Not like this.

'Sue!' She ignored him, the green-framed doors closing behind her. He began to run. 'For God's sake, Sue—'

Fortunately the doors were double-hinged, allowing him to burst through them in pursuit of his former fiancee. 'Sue, stop! Lulu! Sue, I'm sorry—'

She halted, turning with a despairing gesture.

'What for? For being you? For putting everyone else first? For loving your job? This place?'

'I don't. Not in the way you mean.' He approached her cautiously. 'Sue … we both know this job isn't mine. It never was. We were wrong—'

Her head dipped. 'I know. I know that now.'

'Christine isn't your sister and she isn't my mum.' He ventured nearer. 'We can't punish her because … because we're messed up ourselves.'

She glanced up at him through her lashes. He'd forgotten how very blue her eyes were. 'I know.' It was the softest of murmurs. 'You're right, it was wrong. And what's worse, we pulled Louisa into it—'

'I just wanted to be someone,' Louisa put in wistfully. 'After I lost out on Head Girl, I felt like … like nothing. Worse than nothing. And then Sue told me about Waterloo Road and I thought it would be my chance.' She twisted, giving her mother a long, straight look. 'I'm nearly eighteen. You can't take all the blame. I didn't come into this for the same reasons you did … but I could've said no.'

Simon groaned, his hands reaching up into his curls. 'God. What a mess.'

'It's not yours,' Sue told him, her lip twisting. 'You've fixed things, you and Christine. It's sorted. I meant what I said, I'm resigning. This was a mistake too far. I'm—I'm going to go away. Start again.'

'Without us?' Louisa asked, her voice hitching.

Sue stared. 'Do you—do you want to come with me?' She sounded as if she couldn't believe her ears. 'Emily'll want to stay at Dene Hollow, but you—'

'We've already lost one mum, I won't lose you,' Louisa said fiercely. She glanced at her sister. 'Em has her own life, her own world, but I—I need someone.'

'Oh, _Lu_—' Sue reached out to pull both girls close. 'You'll _always_ have me.'

'And me,' Simon added, the words coming from some hidden wellspring of emotion he hadn't known existed. 'And everyone here at Waterloo Road. Sue … Louisa, don't go. We're in this together. I want to stay and make things right for all of us. The school. Christine. Me and you, Sue. You and the girls …' He paused to catch Sue's dubious gaze with his own, his mouth turning dry as he considered the enormity of what he was asking. '_Please_. Please stay.'

She studied him for an endless while.

'You really mean it? You're not just saying it?'

He shook his head. He saw her take a deep breath.

'I'll … I'll think about it. I can't promise anything, but I'll …' She began to usher the girls towards the staff room, glancing back over her shoulder to say, 'Don't call me, I'll call you.'

He let out an explosive sigh, aware that the heavy burden of guilt and obligation he'd carried all term had just eased a fraction.

* * *

**Inverclyde Royal Hospital, 2.45pm**

* * *

'Mrs Mulgrew, can you open your eyes for me? Mrs Mulgrew?'

The voice summoned Christine through the dark layers of unconsciousness, drawing her forward.

'Come on … Yeah, I think she's coming round now—'

Dawning awareness crystallised into recognition as her wakening senses began to send signals to her brain. Signals such as muted-but-still-present pain down on side. A steady series of high-pitched beeps. A distinctive scent, sharp and sterile.

'Mrs Mulgrew?' A pause. 'Christine, it's time to wake up!'

All at once she realised where she was and her instinctive reaction was to panic, to flee, to return to the safe cocooning dark. Reality—especially reality within the nightmarish confines of a hospital—was more than she could bear.

'There's something wrong,' the voice said, fading beneath the galloping of her heartbeat. 'Her heart rate's going nuts, I don't understand—'

'I told you this would happen!' A second voice echoed in the distance. 'Go away, let me try … Mum! You're OK, it's safe. Come on.' A pause. 'Mum, it's me. Please wake up!'

_Connor_.

'Just keep talking, it's working.' The first voice was back, almost unpleasantly loud and full of medical officiousness.

'Come on, Mum. Wake up. You've given us a hell of a fright,' Connor said as Christine gave a little moan. There no point in trying to flee consciousness now. She heard him ask, 'Can I touch her? I won't hurt her?'

'Not the left side … and be careful with the wires,' the officious one warned. 'Other than that, touch away.'

She creaked open her eyes just as Connor took her hand. Light flooded in, making her cringe. Her lips were dry; she had to moisten them before she could speak.

'Hey.' It was little more than a breath, but it was enough to ease the signs of strain on her son's face.

'Welcome back.' His eyes were very bright and Christine thought he sounded nearly as rough as she felt. She had to repress a whimper as memory returned, assaulting her with the events of the day.

'Connor … Im? Dyn? The … the others?'

'All fine,' he rasped. 'We got a bit bumped, couple of bruises and knocked heads, but nothin' serious. Even Kev's just a bit shaken up. You got the worst of it.'

Her brow crinkled in honest bewilderment. 'Me?'

'Yeah, you—' His voice cracked and his head went down on the bed beside her before popping back up. She'd thought he was upset but now she saw he was furious, his eyes sparkling with more than simply tears of fright and relief. 'You scared the living _shit_ out of me, Mum! What were you _thinking_, of all the bloody damned sodding _stupid_ things to do!'

Thoroughly taken aback, Christine stared at him for a long moment before surprising herself by laughing. It was harsh and rackingly painful, but it was still a laugh.

Connor scowled. 'I don't see what's so funny.'

'Sorry, son. I shouldn't laugh, it's just—' Her voice cracked and he helped her drink. When he replaced the cup she continued, 'Typical of … of us. You lecturing … again.'

'Sorry.' His expression was sheepish.

All at once Christine's amusement fled.

''S'OK, son. I get it, I—I was scared too. Thought I'd lost you, I couldn't—' She bit into her lip as another stream of memories returned. Connor's fingers tightened on hers.

'I'm not a kid any more,' he told her softly. 'You have to trust me, Mum. Trust me to get out of my own messes—or other people's. It's time to let go. Look after yourself. And Tom,' he added, causing a bevy of frightened butterflies to swoop inside as Christine realised what—or rather _who_—was missing.

'Tom! Is—isn't he here?'

'Not yet,' Connor explained and her lips pinched. After Connor's reaction she cringed to think of Tom's. In hindsight she could see she'd been foolishly impulsive but at the time pure instinct had kicked in. Tom would understand that. Wouldn't he? He was a a parent too...

'They wouldn't let him come,' her son was saying and she tried to swallow the heavy sensation of dread. 'There was only room for one and we thought—'

'It's fine.' She twisted her fingers around his so that she was doing the squeezing. 'I'm, I'm glad it was you.' She was, but she couldn't help her eyes straying past her son again and again as she looked for Tom, her body involuntarily tensing in anticipation.

Naturally, Connor noticed.

'Mum, he'll be here. Imogen and Dyn just arrived, they got a cab. The nurse has gone to tell them you've come round. Stuff must be happening at school, I'll call Tom and we'll get him straight over—'

She gave a small shake of the head. 'No. He has to come because he wants to.'

'Mum—'

'No, son. Listen. I've …' She sighed. 'I've been a weathervane with the poor guy this term, swinging this way and that. Now there's no baby, he doesn't have to stay. If he does, it has to because he wants to. Because he's chosen to. You know what they say, if you love something, you have to let it go. If it comes back to you—' She couldn't continue. The start of her little speech had been fuelled by a desire to defer the day of reckoning but now ... Now she realised she'd only spoken the truth. The rest of old adage repeated in her mind: _if it comes back it you, it's yours. If it doesn't, it was never meant to be. _

'He will come back,' her son insisted. She could see the little muscles bunch along his jaw. 'He has to.'

'No. He doesn't. Connor. It'll be fine, OK? No matter what happens. I don't want you worrying about him and me, it's our problem.'

'I can't help it.'

'I know.' She sighed and squeezed his fingers. 'What are we like, h'mm? And another thing.' The butterflies swooped again and this time it wasn't because of Tom.

'It can wait,' Connor murmured several beeps later when she'd said nothing more. 'I wasn't supposed to be with you this long. The doctor wants a word and then she wants you to rest—'

'No, I have to say this now.' She managed a quiver that masqueraded as a smile; with the skin there feeling so tight it was the best she could do. 'What I said … about letting go. It applies to you too.' It came out in a rush that hurt her abused throat. 'I love you, son. I want you to be happy so …' She took a deep breath. This was it, once she said it she couldn't take it back. 'If you want to go for your catering training, just … just _go_. I've disrupted your life enough, I'm not gonna stand in your way anymore.'

His eyes were round. 'But my exams—'

'It's up to you whether and when you take them. It's your life and like you said, you're not a kid. You don't need your mum to tell you what to do—'

'I think Imogen'll make up for it,' he quipped. 'I—Thanks, Mum, That's … See how crap I am, I can't even find the words!' A smile grew, reaching from ear to ear before he sobered. 'I promised I wouldn't go until September, that hasn't changed.'

'But—'

''Shhh!' Connor laid a firm finger on Christine's lips. 'You're talking too much. You're supposed to be resting!'

She allowed her eyes to fall shut, blocking him out. 'I don't want to rest.' She shifted, moaning when her entire body seemed to protest. 'I hate hospitals. Lying here, too much time to brood …' She turned her head, thinking _And God knows there's plenty to brood _about_._

'Well, if you won't rest you can talk to the doc.' Connor's tone was carefully casual, snapping her attention back to him. 'I was waiting for… Never mind, I'll call her in.'

Before Christine could prevent it, he had done exactly that, returning almost at once with a small woman garbed in a white coat at least three sizes too big.

'Mrs Mulgrew, good to see you back with us. How are you feeling?' the doctor asked as she swept up to the bed, her gaze flicking to scan something out of Christine's line of sight.

'I'm fine,' she croaked automatically; old habits died hard. The dark eyes facing hers were sceptical and Connor's were downright accusing. She gave a tiny huff. 'OK, OK … Rough. _Very_ rough.'

The woman's smile was sympathetic.

'I'll bet. Well, Mrs Mulgrew, I'm Dr Sharma. I'm sorry to say your heroics have given a long burn down your left arm and a wee scorch on your cheek there, so if you're noticing a bit of discomfort there that's what it is. Neither are serious but as with all burns they'll take a while to heal, but we're not anticipating any difficulties. Otherwise, you've got a concussion and a truly impressive array of bruises, so what with one thing and another we're going to be keeping you with us for several days.'

Christine was preparing to argue when she caught an exchange of looks between the doctor and her son. The doctor seemed amused and as for Connor … Her usually reserved son was smirking, out-and-out _smirking_.

Her eyes narrowed. 'Is that it?'

'As it happens, there's one more thing.' Dr Sharma paused. 'The most important thing, I should say.' Now her grin rivalled Connor's. 'Congratulations. I can confirm you're about twelve weeks pregnant—and despite all the dramas it's looking good.'

'What?' Christine wondered if she was dreaming; if all this was some concussion-induced hallucination. She shook her head in disbelief, ignoring the discomfort it caused to her already rattled skull. 'You're wrong. I—I can't be, I miscarried—'

Dr Sharma shook her head, leaning closer so that Christine could look her straight in the eye.

'We confirmed it,' she repeated gently but forcefully. 'With a scan while you were out of it. Your son insisted. There's no mistake. You're twelve weeks and counting.'

* * *

**Mr Clarkson's room, 3.00pm**

* * *

'Are you still here?' George Windsor's demand made Tom glance up from where he was sunk in gloomy introspection as his desk. 'Thought you'd've been away by now.'

He cleared his throat. 'I'm, I'm waiting for news. Don't wanna just hang around up there when I might be needed here.'

'Huh.' George came to lean in front of one of the desks in the front row, lovingly clasping a battered satchel with both arms. 'The prospect of "hanging around" didn't stop Imogen and Dynasty.' His tone was acid and Tom flinched.

'As soon as I hear—' He broke off when his phone began to vibrate noisily against the desk and George raised an eyebrow.

'_Well?_'

Tom swallowed, suddenly swamped by a rising tide of paralysing terror. Christine had looked so frail as they carried her out. What if—

'For God's sake!' George snatched the phone up from the desk, his thumb moving to hit the green button. 'It's Connor. You can take it or—'

'Give it here,' Tom snapped, suiting the action to the word. He had to clear his throat twice before he was able to say, 'Connor. How's it going, mate?' He turned away from George's disbelieving stare—and to hide his own expression if the news wasn't good.

_Where are you? Why aren't you here? _

'I didn't want to—' He stopped, unable to give Connor the same trite excuse he'd given George. 'How is she?' His pulse thudded loudly in his ears.

_She's resting now_. Connor sounded hostile. _It'll take a bit of time but she'll be fine. I'll tell you more when you get here—_if_ you get here._

Tom winced, suddenly realising how the delay must seem to Connor—and Christine, if she was alert enough to notice. His tummy gurgled with disgust at himself; George was right, he'd no business still being at school.

'I'm leaving now,' he said quickly. 'Shouldn't be long.'

_You'd better not be_. Connor hung up and Tom turned to the other man, aware that he was less steady than he'd like to be.

'So?'

Tom wondered if he imagined the slight quaver as George posed the question. Remembering their earlier conversation he thought not.

'She's—she's gonna be fine.' His voice broke. 'It'll take a while but she'll be fine.' Relief made him slump across the desk. 'Thank God. I didn't wanna think…' He shook his head.

George moved towards the door.

'So what are we waiting for?' Tom stared and the other man barked, 'Shift your bones, Clarkson! I'm driving you over there. You're not safe to be let out on the roads, quivering lump of jelly that you are. There'd be an accident.'

At any other time Tom might have resented the contemptuous edge, but not just then. He jerked obediently to his feet, following George from the room. He was still grumbling.

'That would be lovely, wouldn't it. You a lurid blob of pulverised human, spread across the road like a generous dollop of strawberry jam on toast. That's all Christine needs, as if the poor girl hasn't already been through enough…!'

Tom hid a smile, half-amused and not at all resentful of the older man's regretful tone as he hypothesised Tom's own demise. George could sneer all he liked, but he'd just revealed that where Christine was concerned he had a heart of gold. For that, Tom could forgive him anything.

* * *

**Inverclyde Royal Hospital, 3.30pm**

* * *

'Are you sure it's OK to wake her?' Tom's voice penetrated Christine's haze of sleep. It was soft and unsure. 'Maybe I should wait—'

'No way, mate. Just give her a minute.' By contrast, Connor spoke in his usual tone. His mother thought he was probably smiling—if not grinning—and her own lips twitched in response as she allowed her lids to flicker. 'See?' Connor sounded complacent. 'Wakey wakey, Mum. You've got a visitor.'

'A very _late_ visitor,' Tom was saying remorsefully as she opened her eyes properly. He was perched on the bed at her right side, her good hand in his.

'Hi.' She squeezed his fingers and the anxious lines bracketing his mouth softened.

'Hi yourself. How are you?'

Christine glanced at her son. 'Didn't you—?'

He looked offended. 'What d'you take us for? That's your job.' He turned to Imogen and Dynasty. 'C'mon, let's give them some space.' He prodded them out and Christine huffed. It was easier than a laugh.

Tom's pressure on her fingers increased. 'What's he on about?'

'I—I have something to tell you.' She paused. 'I … I was wrong.'

'About?' Tom raised her hand to his lips.

One corner of her mouth quivered; the gentle touch was almost too much.

'Where d'you want to start?' Her voice cracked. 'God, Tom … I'm so sorry.' A wave of guilt washed over her as she reconsidered her actions over the past fortnight, from the afternoon of her supposed miscarriage (and subsequent mini-binge) right to this very day. 'I should've listened to you.'

''Course you should've.' Tom's tone was easy, but she could see the film of imminent tears. 'No need to go all this trouble just to tell me that.'

She laughed—and groaned. 'Oh … _don't_. It hurts.'

'Sorry, love.' Another feather-kiss on her fingers.

'You were right,' she whispered. Once again her lips twitched, but this time it was with the desire to tease; an impulse that had become almost foreign. 'About the shoes.'

A series of emotions chased across his features. First there was amusement, then bemusement, and finally … finally, his expression froze. She could almost see the cogs of his brain whirling as he put two and two together and came to an inevitable four.

'_Christine_—' It was nearly a plea.

'I won't be wearing them for a while,' she murmured, her voice thickening as her own vision clouded. She was still in shock. 'Not for another … ooh, six months, shall we say?'

Tom stared at her for a long moment before jumping to his feet with a muffled whoop and punching the air like one of their pupils.

'_Yes!_ What did I tell you, eh? _What_ did I tell you!' He came back to her, falling on his knees beside the bed. 'I knew you couldn't have miscarried. You said it yourself, we beat the odds getting pregnant to start with. A kid that determined to exist isn't gonna let go that easy.'

Christine raised her eyebrows at this piece of dubious biology. 'I don't think it works that way.'

'Probably not.' His grin was radiant. 'Who cares?' He glanced over his shoulder. 'D'you think—?'

'What?'

'Do you think I could fit there? Beside you?'

Christine's eyes closed and her lips quivered. She hadn't realised until then how she longed for him to be close; it was a hunger as profoundly visceral as the need for food. '_Please_ do.'

It required some very careful wriggling on Tom's part and even more careful balancing, but at last he was stretched out beside her, teetering on the few spare inches of hospital bed.

'I've missed this,' he said gruffly. 'Me and you, properly together and properly talking. These past weeks, it's like something's been missing.'

'I know.' Their hands intertwined. 'I'm sorry you felt you had to leave. I'm sorry you felt forced out.'

'It's never gonna happen again,' he swore. 'It was my fault too, I was bein' oversensitive. A pillock.'

'No, you weren't.' She sighed. 'You were trying to look out for me. As usual. And I wouldn't let you.' She bit her lip. 'I'm not used to it, you see? Someone caring as much as you do … Sometimes it doesn't seem real.' She searched the blue eyes so near her own. 'D'you understand?'

Those eyes softened. 'Yeah. Yeah, 'course I do.' The blue intensified. 'God, I want to kiss you.'

'H'mmm, that'd be nice, but—' Her gaze flicked towards the door with its big square window. Connor and the other two were watching unashamedly, their noses pressed to the glass, and Tom's grin turned into a smirk.

'Well, we are teachers. We could show 'em a thing or two.' He seemed to be trying to find something, wriggling in a manner that made her seriously wonder whether he was going to end up on the floor.

'Tom—' She tightened her grasp on his hand, for whatever good it might do. 'What're you doing?'

'Trying to find'—another twitch, ending with a triumphant flourish—'this!'

She exhaled with a barely audible whistle when his hand twisted to reveal a small velvet box. 'Is that—?'

'It's my mum's engagement ring,' he said, opening it to show the contents within. He paused, his Adam's apple bobbing in this throat. 'Christine, will you—?' The velvet box trembled, the motion causing the stones to throw out a flurry of multi-faceted light.

'It's beautiful.' She blinked. 'Absolutely beautiful. I, I would be _proud_ to wear it.'

A pause, during which Christine could have sworn she heard the beat of Tom's heart. They were pressed so close together that if she concentrated she was sure she could feel it, running in tandem with her own.

'Is that a yes?' he asked hoarsely.

She ran an appreciative finger over the old-fashioned arrangement of diamonds. Then she closed the box and pressed it between her palm and his with a gentle shake of her head.

His disappointment was palpable and she tried to smile.

'I'm not saying no.' His brow crinkled. 'I'm saying … not yet. I don't deserve this, Tom. Not right now. Give me time to prove that I love you, that I can care for you in the way you've cared for me. And the next time—' He grinned and she smiled widely, ignoring the cracking sensation in her skin. 'Next time, it'll be yes. Squirt Clarkson has quite a ring to it, don't you think?'

Then they did kiss, uncaring of her injuries, uncaring of his precarious position on the bed, and absolutely completely uncaring of the wildly cheering trio of teenagers outside their door.

**THE END**

* * *

I do hope that wasn't a case of trying to please everyone and succeeding in pleasing no-one! I'd love to know what you think!

* * *

Before signing off for a few weeks I just wanted to thank everyone who has favourited or reviewed, especially the following:

**Jessiekat89, Paisley, chantelucy** (when there's any Kacey, lol), **Niamhemiliee**, and **Lori**.

Your consistent reviews have kept me going, otherwise I'd've given up weeks (months) ago.

Thanks are also due to:

**Daydreams-About-Fallen-Stars, Wall With A Fez, gem, loveistheprotection, Alice, Virgogirl 14, Loulouberry, Caitlin, Mandy, you6, Sophie, SweetiesNCupcakes, Fliss, AmyOncer, private-schooler, can't log in, faith, msn, gemma, secret person, sammy, dreamer, Amber, guest of honor, Sue Spark, Hannah, Karla, Anon, gg, vampire diaries, Liz, dreamerxox, SOPH, keeping it sweet, Annis, LittleBooLost, Jess, Evelyn, Vanessa, Molly, Fee, AutograssT18, lola, Elsa, anon, Lottie, Millie, April, silver7612, M.k, Coz, Jack, hollie, Anon, Sparkles21… and last but by no means least, the many guests who could be clones, separate individuals, fly-by-nights, or any of the above. :) **

Hope you've all enjoyed the ride and that you'll be back for the third (and final) story. Watch this space for _The Mulgrews of Waterloo Road: Summer Term_!


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